


Man's Greatest Treasure

by greeneggs101, Violet_Janou



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, National Treasure Inspired, Treasure Consultants, Treasure Hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:43:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeneggs101/pseuds/greeneggs101, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Janou/pseuds/Violet_Janou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a treasure consultant on the hunt for the Excalibur. Molly is his sidekick. John, well he gets swept up in an adventure.</p><p>Inspired by National Treasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The fic idea was drawn from the Walt Disney film National Treasure. The fic is complete and we will be posting a chapter a week. Feedback is much loved! Enjoy!
> 
> Sorry about any misspelled/misused words or grammatical errors. They are all on us as we took turns editing the fic before posting it but small things do slip thru the cracks.
> 
> Edit: Now with Chapter Titles!

**September, 1986**

“Hand over your booty!”

“Hmmm… no.”

“Ahh come on, Mycroft! You’re no fun!” The small boy with curly dark hair, hidden underneath a small pirate’s hat, pouted. 

“No, I am not fun,” the older boy corrected. “And I really do not think that any pirate would have said ‘booty’.” 

“Then I’ll be the first,” the curly haired boy said. “Come on Mycroft! Play with me!” 

“No, Sherlock! I’m reading.”

“Reading is boring,” Sherlock sneered. He then proceeded to run off into the woods.

Mycroft sighed. Lately everything was ‘boring’ to his younger brother; it was quickly becoming his favorite adjective. He returned to the story of King Arthur. Unlike most thirteen-year-olds, Mycroft was perusing the original Geoffrey of Mammoth stories; they were interesting, if fictional. 

“MYCROFT!!!” 

Mycroft jumped up. Sherlock had run off deep into the woods, out of Mycroft’s line of sight. Mycroft quickly ran to where the shout had come from. The woods were dense so he had to slow down, picking his way through the path. By the time he’d reached Sherlock, it was clear that Sherlock’s shout had been one of joy instead of fear; Mycroft was slightly annoyed.

“Mycroft, look!” Sherlock pointed to a large stone in the middle of a clearing. 

The stone was worn down by the weather, but Mycroft could see what had made Sherlock so excited. The latest storm had caused some of the moss on the stone to wash away, leaving behind what appeared to be carvings in the rock. 

“It looks like writing!” Sherlock exclaimed, getting on his hands and knees to take a better look. Mycroft sighed; it was his job to make sure that Sherlock’s new clothes didn’t get soiled before dinner that night. Mycroft thought that this was an unfair and impossible task, especially with his younger brother. 

“It probably is, Sherlock. We’re near Stonehenge. It’s probably just some ancient tribe’s writing. Let’s go back. We need to clean your clothes before dinner.” 

“Caliburn…” Sherlock read, “Mycroft? What’s ‘Caliburn'?”

Mycroft furrowed his brow. “Well...” He opened his book to the glossary in the back. “It was one of the names of King Arthur’s sword, Excalibur.” He handed the book to Sherlock to see. 

“Mycroft! This could be the stone! The stone Excalibur was stuck in, like in this book you’re reading!” Sherlock exclaimed. “That’s so cool! It could prove that King Arthur was real!”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “It doesn’t prove anything. It’s just a rock in the ground. Now, come on, let’s go back.” Mycroft turned around and started making his way through the underbrush.

Sherlock stared at the rock some more before flipping through Mycroft’s book to a blank page and ripped it out. He dug around in his pocket for a piece of graphite. Laying the blank page on the rock, he rubbed the graphite over it evenly, creating a distinct impression.

A few weeks later, Mycroft was disappointed when he was forced to pay for damages on a book because a page was ripped out. The library let him keep the damaged copy in favor of a new one. Mycroft threw the copy away in disappointment; and moved on to more interesting things, such as British law and espionage. 

Sherlock requisitioned the book and declared his new future occupation: Treasure Consultant.

~~~

**June, 2000**

Personally, Molly thought the younger boy was creepy. Creepier than Sherlock on a bad day. The boy’s large dark eyes seemed to bore into Sherlock’s back. Sherlock shifted slightly as he turned the page in the chemistry textbook. Creepy-boy licked his lips. 

“Molly, what are you looking at?” Sherlock’s stare hadn’t moved from his book; but Molly knew he didn’t need to look in order to know that Molly’s attention was elsewhere.

“The guy behind you,” Molly nodded toward the boy, “he keeps staring at you.” By this point the boy had shifted his attention to his notes.

Sherlock turned and stared. Though he wasn’t speaking, Molly knew that he was “deducing” and analyzing the boy. Molly felt sure that Sherlock would turn back around and mutter “dull” before returning to his book.

To her surprise, Sherlock stood up, gathered his things, and walked over to the boy’s desk. Molly quickly overcame her shock and hissed, “Sherlock?! What are you doing? These are our seats! Sherlock!” Seeing that her options were to either follow or get left behind, Molly chose the first.

Getting closer to the table, Molly saw what had caught Sherlock’s attention. Not only did the boy have a chemistry textbook, he also had a book on Arthurian myths. 

Sherlock and the boy were talking. Sherlock had his sleeves rolled up and held out his hand for the boy’s book. Molly noticed that Sherlock’s fags were about to fall out of his back pocket. Personally, Molly thought that Sherlock’s newest habit was disgusting, but it was better than his old habit. Molly couldn’t actually see the track marks from her position, but she knew they were there. Luckily, she had informed Sherlock’s brother shortly after she found out, which hadn’t been soon enough. She should have kept a closer eye on Sherlock since Wilkes’s betrayal. Sherlock was pissed that Mycroft found out. But, he later told Molly that she wasn’t an idiot, which, she knew, was as close to an apology as she was going to get. 

She was dragged out of her thoughts by Sherlock’s voice, “Molly, this is Jim Moriarty. He is also interested in Arthurian myth.” 

Molly looked at the boy, Jim, again. 

When Sherlock had first told her of his theory of Excalibur in archeology class his first day of Uni, she thought he was crazy. Hot, but crazy. She let her feelings blind her, until she really got to know the man known as Sherlock Holmes; and he was crazy. Brilliant, but completely off his rocker. But then, his theories began to make sense, and so Molly teamed up with him to find Excalibur. Her lingering feelings had something to do with it. But, by the time of the Sebastian Wilkes affair, she was over those feelings, and Sherlock was over human feelings of any kind. Wilkes had really emotionally scarred Sherlock. Mycroft implored Molly to keep an eye on his little brother to make sure it never happened again; but Molly would have done that anyway. Sherlock had become her best friend in the short two years she had known him. She was finishing her last year at Uni, while he was starting his second. From the looks of it, Jim was starting his first. 

Jim smiled at Molly, but only had eyes for Sherlock. “Yes, I am… did you know… there is an original copy of Gildas’ De Excidio et Conquestu Britanniae as well as some of his other writings in the library’s archives?”

“What?”

“Gildas mentioned Arthur in his writings. It’s one of the few sources that historians have on King Arthur,” Sherlock explained quickly. “And, you need to be a head librarian and have a special pass to see those records. I don’t think they are going to let three undergrads in, just to take a look.”

“Well… not necessarily.” Jim’s grin took on a decidedly demonic look. 

Molly had a feeling this was going to land Sherlock in prison. Or, at least as close to prison as Mycroft would allow the system to take him. 

~~~

**November, 2001**

It was hot. John was going to need to get used to the heat; he was going to be here for a while. Rolling his shoulders to relieve the tension formed over a day of fixing bullet wounds, cuts, scraps and even performing surgery. He was tired. He was off duty for a 12-hour rest period, and then he would be back in the morning to witness it all over again. 

He had left the surgery and was heading back to his barracks. He needed a shower and then sleep. Walking into his room he saw his mate, Andrew, sitting on the edge of his cot with a package from home. They had been out in the battlefield for merely three months, and his parents were already sending him things. 

“Don’t you ever wish that you also trained for combat?” John asked as he sat down on his cot. 

“No. We are safe here, you nutter,” Andrew explained as he looked up from the newspaper article he was reading. “Why? Do you?” 

John didn’t know what to say.

“I guess I want some adventure in my life,” John told him. Andrew snorted and laughed.“Oh, bugger off,” John said to him as he began to unlace his boots. “What the hell are you reading?” 

“My sister is at Uni and she is interning for The Sun back in London and she got her story published, ” Andrew said as he looked up again. “ Two dumb-asses tried to break into the university library. They said they are trying to find that stupid Arthur legend.” Andrew laughed as he passed the clipping to John. “One kid is 21 and the other was just 19.” 

John held the paper to his eyes and began to read in the dim light. 

_On Thursday the 4 of October at 11 in the evening, the university library was broken into by two thieves trying to retrieve information which would lead them to finding the “Scabbard of Excalibur” in the King Arthur legend._  
Treasure Consultants. That is what the thieves; Sherlock Holmes, 21 and James Moriarty, 19 were calling themselves as the police questioned them. Holmes and Moriarty both attend University together; with the common knowledge of History and Archeology they planned to prove the stories of King Arthur.  
“They are just kids. They got a crazy idea and it got them in trouble,” Inspector Gregory Lestrade said as he talked about the capture of Holmes and Moriarty. When the two men were arrested the police were able to retrieve the stolen item from them. The head museum curator was pleased to have gotten the stolen item back.  
“They are just children who never grew up and realized that the tales of King Arthur are nothing but fables,” The curator Alice Walker stated.  
The Arthur legend, with his Knights of the Round Table as well as Camelot, has been in English folklore for ages. While some people do believe it to be true, others know it stories that are told to children to widen their imagination to the world.  
The boys were sent to jail but were released and appeared in court to get an ASBO for their actions. No criminal record will be written down for either of them. The school said they aren’t taking any action on the two men either.  
Neither Holmes nor Moriarty had a comment on their actions, but Holmes did say, “People see but do not observe. That is the downfall and they will see that is the downfall.”  
-Kitty Riley 

Handing the paper back John shook his head. “Your sister did a good job,” John told him. Andrew took the paperback, folding it, and slipping it back in to the package it came in. “You are a lucky bastard that you sister is doing something with her life. I wish mine would.” 

“You have a sister?” Andrew asked as he lay down on his cot. 

“Yes, she is still in Uni. She has other things on her mind that have nothing to do with her classes,” explained John as he slid his boots under his cot. He would shower after he woke up; his body wasn’t going to do much moving now.

“Boys?” Andrew asked handing John a biscuit from a container his mother had send him in the larger package. 

John laughed. He wanted to change the subject. The idea of talking about his sister’s sexuality was not something John had in mind. “Do you think those kids were right… that there was some secret note that would tell them where they needed to go?”

“Not you too, Johnny.” Andrew told him as he took another biscuit and then closed the container. “It’s a fable, a story our parents told us when we were kids. None of it is real. I mean, shit, it’s the 21st century. I think we would have known by now if King Arthur was real.” 

John sighed. Andrew had a point. But just thinking about it. Being able to take his mind away from the battle zone. From the death and the blood and the odor that loomed over him. It was a nice escape. John felt his eyes closing and his mind thinking about the King Arthur legend.


	2. Over the Edge

Sherlock huffed as he pulled his pack out of the boot of the car and slipped it onto his back. It had been a long day of travel. They had gotten to Paris the day before, but, due to the lack of sleep, they got a hotel room and rested the day and planned their following day. 

From the hotel it was long six-hour drive to Haute-Savoie, France. Like always, Molly was the driver of the car. While she drove Sherlock appeared to check out from the world, as he thought about not only the climb they would partake in when they reached the summit, but the most likely location of the scabbard as well. His eyes constantly drifted to the rear view mirror at Jim, who was lounging across the entire back seat. Jim had slept part of the way and was currently texting on his phone as they reached closer to the summit.   
It was a little after noon when they arrived at the footholds of the waterfall. They were all getting their packs ready for the long climb up La Casade d’Arpenaz. As Molly fastened her pack in front of her chest she looked curiously at Sherlock. “Are you wearing jeans?” she asked him tilting her head to get a better look at his attire.   
Sherlock looked at her and then turned his gaze back to his phone. Molly looked at Jim who shrugged his shoulders at her. She returned her attention to Sherlock. “Sherlock I’ve known you for ten years and I’ve never seen you A) wear Jeans or B) buy them. So when did you get them?” Molly asked fixated on the blue jeans covering Sherlock’s thin legs.   
Sherlock rolled his eyes, slipping his phone into his front pants pocket, he looked at Molly. “Does it really matter, I’m sure there are other things that your mind should be thinking and focusing on. Not the type of trousers I have decided to wear on this climb,” Sherlock explained to her as he shut the boot of the Land Rover. “You didn’t make a comment on the fact Jim has a new pair of hiking boots,” He continued as he strode away from the car. 

“Jim wears hiking boots, unlike Mr. ‘I’m so cool that I only wear expensive tailored suits and tight fitting shirts and nice dress shoes so I can look so cool and mysterious.’ That is why I am so fixated on the jeans,” explained Molly as she walked after him. 

Sherlock stopped and looked at Molly and Jim. “Do you want to discuss the pants I decided to wear today or can we go over our plan for the climb?” Sherlock asked. Molly rolled her eyes as she pulled out the cigarette she was trying to withhold from him. Smiling he took one out of the container, pulled the light from his pocket and lit the end. Taking a deep breath in and then as a cloud of smoke left his mouth, Sherlock’s body loosened up. “It’s almost one o’clock, I would guess we can make it to where we will camp out by four. We will set up camp, eat and then tomorrow we will go looking for the scabbard.” 

“Not tonight?” Jim asked as his phone vibrated in his windbreaker’s pocket. 

“No, we need rest. Plus, it’s not good crawling in caves when its dark outside; we need as much natural light as we can get,” Sherlock told him as he took another deep breath in.

Tapping the cigarette ash on the ground Sherlock looked at Jim’s phone pocket as it lit up again and vibrated. Tossing the cigarette onto the ground, putting the top of his hiking boot on the light end he moved it in a half circle and then looked up at Molly and Jim. “Let’s go, and no more talk about clothes, Molly.” 

“Oh bugger off,” she said hitting Sherlock in the arm as they began their climb up. Soon they fell into their regular ways. Sherlock was focused; his face grew harder as he looked at the path ahead of them. He had checked out of his surroundings and unless the exact location of the scabbard materialized out of thin air, any attempts at conversation from Molly or Jim would be ignored or deleted.

Jim, who normally talked a little, was silent. Molly turned her head and saw him with a smirk on his face as he texted. Opening her mouth to say something, she closed it and turned her head back around. Jim, she knew, did not have many friends, if any outside of her and Sherlock. He was an odd man, and she still couldn’t shake the bad feeling she got when she looked into his deep brown, almost vacant eyes. 

Sherlock turned and looked at Molly, breaking her gaze, but she then saw Sherlock’s blue eyes look over her head and towards Jim. He had the look; she had seen this look a few times in the years of knowing Sherlock. It was the same look he got when he was suspicious about an old school mate, Sebastian Wilkes. 

After nearly three hours of climbing, they reached the spot where they would make camp. Sherlock set his pack down and sat down on a log, then he pulled out his leather bound journal and a pen and began to scribble something on the tan pages. “We need to make a fire before night falls and it gets cold,” Sherlock said, closing the journal and slipping it into his jacket pocket. “Jim, go and find some wood.” 

“What are you going to do?” Jim asked, a little defiant to Sherlock telling him what to do. “I mean besides dictating.” 

“I need to think,” he told him as he stood almost over him. Jim didn’t blink, but turned and went to look for wood. 

“You had ‘The Look’ today when we were walking,” Molly told him as she set her pack down. “Why did you have ‘The Look’?” 

Sherlock smiled. “You are beginning to observe better, Molly.” Molly rolled her eyes as she unzipped her pack and pulled out a can of beans and a teabag. “It’s nothing to concern ourselves with just yet,” he added, sitting back down next to his pack.

~~~

Sherlock moved the logs to keep the fire going. Molly had fallen asleep, her head on her pack and tucked into her sleeping bag. Looking across the fire, Sherlock saw Jim’s phone light up. He waited to see if he was going to respond; if the younger man was awake he would answer in 1.2 seconds. Nearly 5 seconds went by and there was nothing. Standing up he walked around and looked down at the screen. He touched it gently to make the screen light up and read the name on the screen.   
Sebastian Moran.

Sherlock then walked around not touching the phone again as Jim moved in his sleep and began to sit up. Sherlock said nothing as he walked out, placing his hands under his chin in this thinking position. 

“I don’t see why we need to sleep, you’re not sleeping. We could be looking,” Jim said, sounding drowsy. 

Sherlock turned and looked at him. “Unlike you, my body needs little to no sleep. You, on the other hand, can’t function on less than 6 hours. So go back to bed and stop being annoying,” Sherlock hissed at him as he turned away and walked around again. 

Sebastian Moran (3) the iPhone screen read. 

Sherlock began to think harder. The name sounded familiar. But he needed to not think about that, he had to think about the cave and what they were going to do. Sherlock walked around the fire for a few hours and then he took a seat again. Pulling out his leather journal he made a few more notes and then slipped it into his pack. 

“Please Sherlock, for me, sleep,” Molly said in her sleep as she rolled over to face the fire. Sherlock knew she was right; he had smoked his entire pack of cigarettes this evening and the only other thing to truly calm him down was to relax his body. Lying on his back, Sherlock looked up into the night sky and thought. His eyes were closed but his mind was racing, storing information and pulling other information out from his mind palace. Piecing the clues together and discarding the ones that were of no use.

~~~

Molly opened her eyes to Sherlock making a pot of tea. Jim was missing, but she figured it was to relieve himself. After stretching her arms, Molly pulled her long, light brunette hair up into a ponytail as she climbed out of her sleeping bag. Sherlock handed her a cup and she smiled, happy to have something warm in her body. “Okay, so how long till we head out and find the cave?” She asked him as Jim came back. 

“Once we pack up,” Sherlock told her as he pulled his torch from his backpack and a few other things that he would need. Jim poured himself a cup of tea as Sherlock looked up at him. “Does that sound okay with you Jim?” 

Jim looked at Sherlock, a little shocked that he was asking him this. “Yeah, sounds fine. What cave are we doing into?” he asked. But Sherlock said nothing as he stood up, brushed off his jeans, and walked away. “Why the hell does he do that?” Jim asked Molly as she stood up and began to roll up her sleeping bag. 

“He’s Sherlock; it’s how he functions,” Molly told him. It wasn’t really an answer but it’s what she told herself when it came to the strange things that he did even to her still. After a half hour, the fire was out, they were all packed and on their way, climbing some more. Sherlock stopped as they came to a cave. He took the water bottle he had been carrying and tossed the water onto the outer rock of the opening. There was what looked like a faint words carved in there. 

“This is it,” Sherlock told them tossing as he slid the plastic water bottle into Molly’s pack and turned on his torch. Walking into the cave Sherlock looked on the ground, he wanted to make sure there wasn’t a drop off. 

It was damp and Molly was praying that there would be no bats. She had clicked on her torch and looked around on the walls. “So where do you think the scabbard could be?” she asked Sherlock. 

“This way,” Sherlock said as he pointed with his torch. Jim was behind Molly, his phone had stopped making noise since they were in a cave and there was no way they would be able to get reception. They continued to follow Sherlock. 

The cave was like any other cave they had been in, the walls were moist from the water on the top dripping down, and it had a damp and musty smell to it. There was no mysterious drawing on the walls or anything that one would find in a Hollywood Film. 

The further they walked the cooler the cave got and the closer the walls came together. Molly didn’t have a fear of small places but this cave made her panic a little inside. “We will be fine,” Sherlock said. Molly knew that was for her but she looked back at Jim even had a look of concern on his face. But as she looked back Molly let out a cry as they slid a few feet. Sherlock caught her as she stood to her feet Jim brushed off the mud. 

“We are getting close,” Sherlock said turning left and led them down another tunnel in the cave. 

“Can we maybe have a little warning before well we fall a few feet,” Molly asked him as she felt her hand bleeding from being cut on a rock. 

“Sure.” Sherlock told her as they stopped. Sherlock’s torch was shining on a panel. The pieces were broken, but there were what looked like levers. Pulling out his journal Sherlock flipped to the middle and began to mumble to himself as he stretched out his right hand and pulled the lever that was on the left. Closing her eyes Molly prayed he pulled the correct one and they wouldn’t fall 50 feet into a pit of spikes and be stabbed to dead. Upon opening her eyes she smiled to see that Sherlock had pulled the correct lever. A small stone had rolled away as Sherlock walked in. 

Pushing away cobwebs Sherlock looked to see a room that was once filled with treasures. There were remnants of what was there. A few gold pieces still there under years of dirt. Picking one up, he looked at it, and then slipped it into a small bag. 

“Where is it?” Jim asked. Almost salivating at the mouth thinking they had found it. 

Sherlock had his phone out his pocket and began to type on it. 

“Sherlock, you said it was going to be here,” Jim said almost breathlessly. “So. Where. Is. It?” He asked. 

“I said that it could be here,” corrected Sherlock. “It looks like before the British left their holdings in France they came and put the treasure here. A few years ago, they had an archaeological dig,” he read from his phone and walked over to the log rock slab. “The scabbard was here but now, it looks like its being held at The National Antiquities Museum.” 

“How do you know this?” Jim asked as he paced back and forth in the room. “Is there nothing we can use to sell and gain a profit?” 

Molly and Sherlock both raised a gaze to Jim. “It says so on the Internet and I don’t plan on finding the scabbard to make a profit.” Sherlock told him walking past Jim and Molly. “We need to head back to London and go to the museum and see if they will let us examine the scabbard to make sure it’s the right one.” 

Molly looked at Jim as he threw a rock at the wall and stormed off. Holding onto her pack’s straps she followed the boys out. “Okay, what if it’s a fake. Where is the next place to look?” she asked Sherlock. 

“There is another theory but I don’t want to discredit this one before we had the chance to follow thru,” he explained to Molly as he began to climb the slight incline they slid down not that long ago. Jim said nothing. Walking back toward the light Molly wanted to know how Sherlock got Internet connection on his phone in the middle of a cave in the middle of nowhere, France. She pondered this question for only a few moments before deciding that Mycroft was the only possible answer. 

Once they climbed out of the cave Molly took a deep breath to relax. Something about being in such close quarters with Jim never sat well with her. “Okay, now we head back down,” she looked at her watch it was just a little after 9. “We can head back to Paris and catch a plane. I can call the museum when we land and say we are doing research for a book and would like to examine the scabbard,” Molly told Sherlock as she brushed off her jacket from the cobwebs. She turned to Jim. “What do you- oh god,” she said as Jim pulled a gun on her. 

“Glad I finally got your attention,” Jim said. His voice seems to fluctuate from high to low. “Now Sherlock if you would be a lamb and walk over toward the waterfall,” he said motioning his gun. Sherlock looked at him and did as he asked. Molly, confused, stood close to Sherlock as they walked. 

“Why are we listening to him?” she asked in a whisper. 

“Because Molly, I have a gun in case you didn’t know what this was.” He said as she shut her mouth and they walked over to the cave entrance to the waterfall. Behind them water was gushing down. “Now, see, I know you are thinking, ‘Jim, no, how could you do this. Oh Jim we trusted you…’ well I did.” 

Sherlock looked at Jim as took hold of Molly’s coat sleeve to try and let her know not to freak out as they stopped by the edge of the waterfall. Jim looked at them, his eyes seemed to have grown in size, as well as look more vacant and hallow. It seemed as if the man did not have a soul. Molly was sure of it now. Jim looked almost possessed; his face seemed to morph into something almost nonhuman as he walked closer to them pointing a SIG Sauer. 

“Guess who was right, me.” Molly said looking at Sherlock panic was beginning to set in for her. “I told you he had creepy eyes. Never trust a man with creepy eyes. But nope you went and chatted with him and now look the man with the creep eyes is pointing gun at us as we are back up on a cliff. Either death is not how I wanted to go Sherlock.” 

“Shut up Molly!” Jim yelled. His voice echoed as a few birds flew from a nearby tree in fear. “I have listened to you talk and sound stupid. And I’ve followed this bloody fool,” he pointed the gun at Sherlock. “Finding all these clues, which lead to another clue and then nothing? You were smelling a fucking coin that had been under dirt for years… that is not a clue that is just pointing out that you are not as brilliant as you claim. Just an ordinary crazy person.” Jim took a deep breath and smiled at them, his lips curling on the side of his face. 

“Says the man pointing a gun at us,” Molly mumbled. 

“What do you want?” Sherlock asked him calm like always. “There needs to be something you want in return, I mean you killing me does nothing when I have all the knowledge of the clues.” 

“I want your journal.” Jim said holding out his hand. “I know you have it on your person Sherlock please make it easy and just give it to me.” He said cocking his head to the side. “I don’t really want to kill you. Well not yet anyway,” he almost sang out. 

Sherlock shrugged off his pack; he pulled out from the small pocket in the front of his pack his leather journal. Tossing it to Jim, Sherlock zipped his pack up and then put it back onto his back. Clipping the strap across his chest, Jim was going on about how he was going to kill them, but Sherlock looked down at Molly into her green eyes. He took her hands and pulled them through the straps of his pack. She looked up puzzled at him but he knew there was a reason. “Hold on,” he said giving her hands a squeeze and she looked back at Jim. 

“… So out of the three options which one do you choose Sherlock?” Jim asked looking at him. Sherlock’s face went vacant for a second as Jim’s came to life with a smile. “I have loved this… this game we had going Sherlock but now you are in my way.”

“One question,” Sherlock asked as he wrapped his arms through Molly’s pack’s shoulder straps and held on tight. “What are you going to do once we are dead?” 

“I thought the genius would know,” Jim laughed walked toward them. “I’m getting the scabbard Sherlock. Now that you will be out of the picture I just need a few bullets and the thing will be mine.” Looking at them Sherlock turned to Molly. 

“Do you trust me?"

“No,” she admitted as she pressed her body closer to his. “But that has never stopped me before.” She explained as a tear rolled down her face. “Do what you need to do.” 

Sherlock turned his head and looked down. Moving closer to the edge of the cliff he knew they only had one option. “Catch you later.” 

“No you won’t!” Sang out Jim’s voice as Molly felt her body and Sherlock’s fall. Her eyes were closed. Too scared to actually scream she held on for her life, knuckles turning white as she did so. Soon there rapid falling ended and it was as if they floating in the air. 

“Molly,” Sherlock told her. 

“Are we dead?” she asked her head pressed against his boney chest. “If I’m dead I don’t want to know where I am.” 

“Were not dead,” he explained to her as she opened her eyes. Looking up she saw a parachute. “I figured he would try and do something like so I installed this.” 

Molly brought her gaze to meet Sherlock’s. “How?” 

“His phone,” Sherlock told her. “He had been texting a lot and Jim doesn’t have friends outside of us. Or at least he didn’t till a few months ago. Plus last night he kept getting texts from this guy named Moran.” 

Molly could punch him but he did just save her life so she settled for, “You’re a bloody twat!” Sherlock laughed as she smiled and looked at they were coming close to the bottom of the waterfall. Once there feet landed they were only a few inches deep in water. 

Sherlock cut the straps of the parachute off his pack and then tossed the parachute to float down the river. Molly let go as he hands shook. Sherlock took them and looked at her. “Come on we have a walk a head of us.” 

“We are not walking to Paris. How can we, I mean you know that he will be watching the airports,” Molly explained as her legs turned to Jell-O and Sherlock held her a few seconds. “Sorry I just- I’m alive.” 

“Yes,” he said. His caring attitude was soon gone and he was back to being Sherlock. “We are not going through Paris, we are going through Geneva airport,” he was walking out of the water to the dry ground. 

“Okay, please tell me what is going on. I know that I must have stepped into the middle of the Sherlockian conversation that is going on in your head but for us normal people break it down and start from the beginning.” 

Sherlock looked at her as he set his pack on the ground and pulled out what looked to be wallets and passports. He handed her one of the bags. Unzipping it Molly dumped the contents into her hand and opened up the passport. “Why does this say Rebecca Hudson,” Molly asked as then she opened the wallet to see there was in ID with the same information. “Did you steal Ms. Hudson’s identity?” 

“She said we could use it,” he told Molly as he tore open his bag and looked at his passport. Molly snatched it from his hands and gasped looking at Sherlock. 

“You’re a dead man. Literally. You stole Mr. Hudson’s identity. Seriously Sherlock this is far beyond illegal I mean, I don’t think that Mycroft can get you out of this if you get caught.” 

Sherlock took the passport back and said nothing; he just walked behind her and unzipped her pack. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked him as he zipped it back up and held out a leather bound journal. 

“Jim has a fake,” he explained to her. “I knew he was up to something so I began to make a fake one. He won’t know till he actually takes a good look at it. The man was also so impatient about things. Never cared to look at the details,” Sherlock almost laughed as he walked. “Come on Rebecca we have walk ahead of us and we don’t want Jim to know we are alive.” 

“I’m running around Europe after a nutter,” Molly said looking at the passport and followed him. “One day Sherlock you are going to meet someone who is going to stop you from being a nutter.” 

Sherlock laughed. “Molly, if you couldn’t do it after knowing me for 12 year I don’t think anyone will ever be able to.” 

“Whatever you say, Sherlock.” Molly told him. 

~~~

**London, 2010**

_Gunfire went off around him. John fell his right hand grabbed his left arm as he tried not to cry out in pain. In the hot head of Afghanistan he could feel the cool blood that was seeping out of his arm. “We need a medic!” he heard someone yell as his mate Scott dropped down next to him. John could taste sand, blood and sweat in his mouth. “We got you Captain.” John tried to talk but no words came out of his mouth. He heard the gunfire going off around him, is helmet fell when he hit the ground; it was blinding his left line of sight. He tried to warn Scott about the man coming towards them but he saw Scott’s eyes grow wide, he moaned, blood began to seep out of his chest as he fell to the ground. Looking up John saw a man, his teeth were white though his skin was tan and stained by the sand and dirt. No words were said, he held his gun, pressing it between John’s eyes. He closed them and prayed to god as everything went black._

Shooting up from is sleep John cried out. He was holding his left arm; his entire body was drenched in a cold sweat. Taking deep breaths to get his heart rate back down to normal John turned his head to look at the clock. He had managed to get three hours of sleep before having another night terror; a new record. 

He saw no point in trying to get back to sleep. Grabbing the cane that was next to the bed he hoisted himself out then walked slowly over to the bathroom. He relieved himself, looked in the mirror at himself. He was 35, an honorably discharged army doctor who had a limp and a bad shoulder, causing him the inability to operate his own medical practice. Walking out of the small bathroom he made his way to the kitchenette. Putting the kettle on, he waited for it to heat up. 

John looked at his computer, opening it up. He knew that he should be working on his blog. The idea seemed ridiculous when his therapist had told him to start on one. It didn’t seem like writing about everything that happens to him would help him feel better. Sitting down his hands hovered over the keyboard but nothing. No one was going to want to read a blog about a crippled ex-army doctor. Even John didn’t want to write about it. It was a rather boring existence.

As the kettle went off John stood up, with the help of the cane. Making his way back to the kitchen he made his cup of tea and then walked back over to his computer. Minimizing the screen he pulled up the research he had been doing on King Arthur. Though it had been nine whole years since he was a simple army doctor reading the news article that his mate’s sister wrote the story stuck with him. 

He pulled his blog back up, just to make his therapist happy. 

June 17, 2010

Nothing happens to me. 

John looked at the screen. No words were truer than those were at this point in his life.


	3. Vatican Cameos

By the time Molly and Sherlock made it back to London Sherlock knew exactly where the antiquities museum stored the scabbard.

Sherlock wanted to dive right in and steal the scabbard before Moriarty got his hands on it. Instead Molly managed to convince him to at least try looking for back up beforehand.

They first tried their contacts at Scotland Yard. Unfortunately, Lestrade, Sherlock’s arresting officer back during his first run in with the law, wasn’t available, instead Sergeant Donovan was.

Molly knew Sherlock and Sally Donovan didn’t get along, but she didn’t think it was this bad.

“Why on earth should we believe that someone is going to break into the National Army Museum and steal this scabbard? It’s ludicrous. Nine years ago it was you trying to break in to a University’s library.”

“Is the freak still on that theory that King Arthur’s sword is hidden in England?” Came a voice from the door. Molly groaned. Anderson came further into the room. “Give it up freak. It’s not real.”

“Yes it is. Where’s Lestrade?!” Sherlock was getting agitated and Molly knew that unless Lestrade could be found quickly Sherlock would probably start deducing things aloud.

“He’s not here. And we’re not interrupting his time off for some crackpot theory.”

Sherlock sniffed loudly. “Fine. We’ll be going then.” He turned to Anderson and analyzed him. “I would think Sally would have better taste in men.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Molly grabbed Sherlock’s coat. “Nothing, nothing.” She dragged Sherlock out of the building before they were ‘escorted’ by security. “Sherlock you can’t just start deducing things like that?” she scolded him as if he was her child.

Sherlock already had a fag and a lighter in his hand. “Why not?” He half mumbled around the cigarette he was lighting up. “It’s obvious to everyone.” He said as he lit the end of his fag once they walked out of The New Scotland Yard and back onto the streets of London.

“No Sherlock. It’s only obvious to you. Now come one. We still might be able to convince the museum director.”

“Doubt it.”

~~~

Turns out, Sherlock was right. Museum director Mike Stamford laughed them out of the room. “There’s no way someone would try to steal some ancient scabbard out of our store rooms? If someone did want to steal it, they would have to get passed security. Trust me, you’re magic scabbard is as safe as can be.”

Sherlock glared as the director escorted them out of the office. “You wouldn’t be able to tell what was safe or not! See that!” Sherlock pointed to a pistol laying in a glass case an arm’s length away. “Anyone with a basic knowledge of lock picking would be able to make off with that within 3 minutes.”

Stamford shook his head. “Lot of good it would do them. The pistols are filled with iron. They are useless.”

“NOT THE POINT!” Sherlock explained to him a little exasperated. “Your security is bare minimum, due to a budget crisis and you’re stressed by both the state of your marriage and the failing budget of the museum. You need to believe me! It will save you a lot of stress later.”

“Goodbye Mister Holmes.” Stamford closed the door to his office.

Sherlock growled. “Why does no one listen to me?! I’m right! Anyone could make off with half of the items in this museum due to terrible security. Molly, Moriarty could break in here easily, but he’s not going to go for stealth. He’ll make it as loud as possible. If we don’t get to that scabbard first, people are going to die.”

Molly sighed. “I know Sherlock. But we’ve tried.”

“Not everything. I’ll do it. I’ll steal the scabbard.”

Molly laid a hand on Sherlock’s arm. “You’re being unreasonable. We’ll try something else. We’ll try someone else at the Yard. Or maybe the police.” But she could see in Sherlock’s eyes that he had already tuned her out and turned his mind to planning. “Fine. I’m going to get the car.”

Molly turned and left, nearly running into a man in an oatmeal jumper.

Sherlock stared at a painting of a soldier in the late 15th century holding out a sword. He was reminded of how much closer he was to discovering the truth behind the legend of King Arthur. He took out his phone to send a text to Molly detailing the list of things he would later need to break in to this place effectively. He growled when he discovered he had no signal. “Stupid phone! You’re worse than Anderson.” He fiddled with the phone for a few more moments before just shoving the thing into his coat pocket.

“Here, use mine.” Sherlock turned and stared at a man in an oatmeal cable-knit jumper holding out his phone. The man himself wasn’t all that interesting to the normal observer: Short, blond/gray hair, wide blue eyes, and a limp, going by the cane at his side. But Sherlock wasn’t the normal observer. As he took the phone he began to make deductions in his head.

_Army, obviously by his haircut and the way he holds himself. The limp is probably psychosomatic, as he stands straight with no favoring of either leg. He was stationed someplace warm as his tan still hasn’t faded despite being in London for at least six months if not longer._

Sherlock quickly sent off the text, glancing over the phone as he did so. The engraving on the back said Harry Watson, could have been the man’s name except the man is wearing a museum name badge reading “John” so a family member. Most likely a brother. A drunk too going by the scraps near the charger.

“Thank you. Afghanistan or Iraq?”

“Excuse me?” the man asked.

“I didn’t stutter. You’re obviously a military man. I’m curious.”

“Afghanistan. I’m sorry how?”

“Sorry, gotta dash. I wanna see the riding crop exhibit.” Sherlock ran off, only glancing back towards the man and saw him scrolling through his phone, probably looking at the text Sherlock had sent.

He didn’t spare the man much thought after telling Molly about the man who offered his phone for Sherlock’s use.

John, for his part, temporarily found the man interesting, but continued on towards the basement to finish cataloging the army surgical tools.

~~~

“Have a nice evening John!”

“You too, Soo Lin!” John glanced at his watch. It was going on half past six, time for him to start locking up his own things. He started gathering the tools he was identifying and placing them back into their containers. He saved his files in the computer system, making sure to mark his place in his notebook.

John walked down to the basement with his things and began placing them back in their proper place.

“1879.89….. 1876….ah here we are!” a voice muttered behind him.

John turned around and was shocked to see the strange man from earlier. “Excuse me! You don’t work here!” He looked at what the man was viewing. It was an ancient scabbard, definably over five hundred years old, if not older.

The man glanced up from his intense staring. Then he grabbed the scabbard and started running toward the door. John bolted after him.

He was shocked to find that the man was multi-tasking. As he ran, the man continued to study the artifact. Suddenly he stopped and started to take a closer look. John almost fell over trying not to run straight into him.

The man was ecstatic about something, he was grinning like a mad man. “That’s it! Vatican Cameos!”

Then the basement door burst open and a rain of bullets came pouring in. John tackled the strange man to the ground. As he lay over the man to protect him, his free hand reached behind to grab his gun from its hiding place. He shot two quick shots to the place where the bullets were coming from. There was a surprised shout and the bullets momentarily ceased.

The strange man pushed John off of him. He only glanced briefly at the gun in John’s hand before muttering “Not just an army doctor then.” He then looked John in the eye and John was momentarily stunned by the lack of shock or fear in them. “Is there another door out of here?”

John nodded. “Towards the back of the room. But you need a key and I don’t have it.

“No matter. Just follow.” The man leapt to his feet and started running, taking advantage of the gunman’s surprise. John quickly followed. When the man saw that he was having difficulties keeping up, he reached his free hand, the hand not holding onto the scabbard, back and shouted, “Take my hand!”

John didn’t hesitate but did as he was told. He glanced towards the cameras. “People are going to talk.”

“People do little else. Now come on!”

The door was quickly found and the man kneeled down beside it. John wasn’t surprised when the man took out a lock pick and began to quickly pick the lock. John covered the man when it became clear the gunmen was following them.

When they did make their appearance John was surprised to see only one gunman and one other person. The man holding the gun waited for the other guy’s signal to fire.

The unarmed man had large dark eyes, which focused directly on the strange man kneeling at John’s feet. “Oh Sherlock. Should have known a little fall wouldn’t kill you. How’s Molly? I saw the little gift you gave me, very clever. Must have hidden the real one in her pack.”

The man, Sherlock, had opened the door and turned to look at the man. “Of course. If you wanted to hide that you wanted to kill me then you should be more careful of whom you allow near your phone. This must be Sebastian Moran then?”

The dark eyed man only gave a sneer before giving his gunman permission to fire. As soon as he did John fired off two quick shots, one nicking the man’s ribs while the other grazed his hand. John didn’t want to kill the man, unsure of his role in this madness. Moran flinched, giving Sherlock and John time to move.

Before Moran could return fire Sherlock pushed John through the door, quickly following. Gunshots ricocheted off the metal door as it closed.

Now, John figured, was the time for questions. “Who was that? Better question. Who are you?”

Sherlock began making his way up the stairs. “No time for that. Unless you want to find out if you can out shoot Moran, I suggest you follow me.”

John didn’t really want to be at the wrong end of a gun so soon and so followed Sherlock up the stairs and out into the parking lot. He noticed that Sherlock was talking into a com.

“Molly I’m coming. Moriarty is here. Start the car!”

Up ahead on the street a van started up its engine. Sherlock and John quickly ran to it and Sherlock opened the door and hopped in. Behind them the doorway had opened and the man, Sebastian, had opened fire again. Sherlock grabbed John’s arm and threw him in the van as well. The bullets clanged as they hit the metal door as Sherlock pulled it shut.

John turned to Sherlock. “Don’t think you evaded my questions. Again. Who are you and who was that? And why weren’t you two getting along?”

The man stared at him. “The name’s Sherlock Holmes. That man was Jim Moriarty and his dog, Moran. We were both after this.” He held up the scabbard, which John was shocked hadn’t been damaged in the firefight. “We’re hoping it leads us to what used to go inside it.”

“So what?” John gasped. “You’re treasure hunters?”

Sherlock sneered. “I prefer the term Treasure Consultant.”

Suddenly something in John’s brain clicked. “What…That Guy! Him!”

“Well, I’m certainly not a ‘her’.”

“Shut up…you’re that guy that tried to break into that library…the one after King Arthur’s sword.”

Sherlock seemed impressed that John knew of his exploits but returned to examining the scabbard.

“Can we please discuss Sherlock’s inclination for crime later and focus?” A new voice behind the wheel said. A young woman, maybe a few years younger than John, turned around briefly at a stoplight. “Hi! Molly Hooper. You must be that army doctor Sherlock was talking about earlier.”

“John Watson.” John nodded in greeting.

“That’s great. We’ll drop you off before we get to Mrs. Hudson’s.”

“We can’t go back there.” Sherlock said.

“What? Why not?”

“Because I had to use my real name in order to gain access, not to mention my face on the camera. They’ll know who we are staying with.”

“Really Sherlock? Of all the times you don’t put your coat collar up?”

They two continued bickering for a few moments but then an idea seemed to strike both of them and they glanced back at John expectantly.

John looked between them before throwing his hands up in the air. “Oh alright! We’ll go to my place. I guess there’s no getting out of this by now.” John quickly rattled off directions before sulking. “It’s not fair, a military officer with my record! Served my country for three tours and where am I going to end up? In prison!”

“Oh shut up! You’re not going to go to prison.”

“And how do you know that? What, do you know the Queen?” John shouted.

Molly sighed. “Close enough.”

~~~

By the time they reached John’s flat, Sherlock was agitated. Molly just looked at the scabbard. “Do you know what it translates to?”

“Yes of course I do.”

“Then what are we waiting for.”

“… I don’t know what it means…”Sherlock seemed to have difficulty admitting that.

“Sherlock…You know someone who does know right?”

“…This is going to be hell.”

“Wait what?” John questioned. “What is he talking about? Who are we going to go see?”

Molly sighed. “The most dangerous man you’ll ever meet.”

~~~

John tried hard not to look out of place as they walked into the Diogenes Club. Looking down he looked like a poor man with his worn out jeans and jumper. But it didn’t matter.

As they walked in Sherlock looked more than upset. John was about to open his mouth when he saw Molly shake her head.

“Mycroft!” Sherlock yelled as everyone turned to look at the three of them standing in the middle of a grand room. Oak wood walls with big leather wingback chairs. “Come out, come out, where ever you are!” he yelled.

John looked as two guards took hold of his arms and began to escort them down a hallway.

“These men are new,” Molly said as she walked with them. “I’m not going to run no need to grab my arm so tight.” She explained as they showed them into a separate room.

The walls were paneled with the same oak boarding. Sherlock took a seat in the chair behind the desk and spun around. “He won’t be long now. Probably shoving another piece of cake down his stupid face of his.” Sherlock hissed rolling his eyes as the door opened.

“Good god what do you want now?” he asked.

Molly looked at Sherlock as he stood up. “We need your help.”

“And who is this?” Mycroft asked as he gave John a once over.

“Doctor John Watson, and that’s not the point Mycroft.” Sherlock told him as he pulled out the scabbard. “Can you… because…” he stopped.

“Oh dear god really Sherlock?” Molly asked him as she rolled her eyes. “He doesn’t know what it means. Do you?”

Mycroft looked down at what lie on his desk. His face not changing to see what was there he just looked up at Sherlock. “What would Mummy say about this, Sherlock.”?

“Really Mycroft, you want to bring Mother in on this?” Sherlock asked as he tossed his hands in the air, his coat flying up with the gesture. “Will you help or not! There is a very, very dangerous man who wants this and he is going to do more harm than good with it. Now will you please,” Sherlock took a deep breath in as he placed his hands on the desk and looked up. “Will you please help?”

“Mummy… no,” John laughed as he pointed at Mycroft and then to Sherlock. “This just keeps getting better and better,” he laughed. “So your brother is going to be what keeps me from jail when he is helping you steal museum property!” John said a vein in his neck popping as he yelled. “This is madness! Complete bloody bullocks!”

“Can you calm him, Molly,” Sherlock said, as he did not move his eyes from his brother. “The sooner you help the sooner we leave and you can go back to being an idiot and eating your cake.”

“John its fine.” Molly told him with a smile as he looked at her as if she was just as mad as Sherlock was. “You saw the men with the big guns, that is why he- we stole it.” She knew that he was soldier and she needed to talk to him like one. “We don’t want a profit- Sherlock wants the adventure… and,” she stopped as she looked at Mycroft scribbling something onto a piece of paper handing it to Sherlock. He grabbed the scabbard and headed on out.

Once they got back onto the street they made their way back to the van. “So the two of you are a regular Bonnie and Clyde,” John said as they climbed in.

Molly laughed as Sherlock turned to look at him. “Who?”

“Bonnie and Clyde they were a famous couple who robbed banks… how can you not know this?” John asked as Molly started the van and put it into gear. Sherlock ignored him and folded his hands together under his chin.

“It’s a lost cause.” She explained as they took off.

“What is?” John asked looking at her.

“Him.” She motioned her head to Sherlock. “He is thinking and he won’t respond to anything you say unless it has relevance to the case.” She pulled into the traffic as she looked at John. “Sadly the history of Bonnie and Clyde is something that he would have deleted a long time ago.”

“Deleted?” John asked more confused than when he made the reference to Bonnie and Clyde. “So you two are not a couple then?”

“God no,” Molly laughed. “Okay Sherlock do you care to share what Mycroft told you or am I just going to be driving around London all day.”

“Back to John’s we need to get a few supplies and call to book some tickets for us,” Sherlock told them as he looked. “We need to get a train. We are going to Dartmoor.”


	4. The Woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to my co-author greeneggs101 for letting me post a chapter twice this week as a birthday gift(: hope you all enjoy!!

John looked out the train window. Everything happened fast. After their quick visit to Sherlock’s brother they headed back to John’s flat. He grabbed his old army pack and began to put cloths, a coat and some necessities he would need for tramping around the entire country. They didn’t stay long for Sherlock pointed out that the police would have identified John by now and that they needed to get moving.

 

They again left their mode of transportation tossing the keys down a storm drain and got into a taxi. Sherlock told the driver to head to the train station. Once they got to the station Sherlock purchased three tickets in a sitting car. Handing over the cash he took the tickets and they headed to board the train.

 

John tore his gaze from the window and looked at his watch. They had been on the train for little under a half hour; Molly had curled herself into ball, and her head lying on her pack and fell asleep. Sherlock had claimed the window seat on the bench. His coat lay next to him. His gaze had not left the screen on his phone. John cleared his throat; he was about to pull out his laptop that Sherlock made sure that he brought with him.

 

“Your haircut.” Sherlock told him. John turned his head looking a bit confused as Sherlock spoke. “You hold yourself like a military man; it’s been engraved into your psyche to stand at attention. I could tell when you handed me your phone you are tan, but you are tan on your face, neck and hands. You don’t get that sort of tan from lying in a bed and you don’t seem one to take a spontaneous holiday either.” Sherlock didn’t even look up from his phone as he spoke to John. “You are working at a military museum; they wouldn’t let someone without knowledge of the medical artifacts handle them. Hence army doctor, so I asked you Afghanistan or Iraq.” Sherlock told him. “And then the way you carry a gun, you have moral principles for you didn’t kill Moran, but you didn’t flinch ones as you fired those shots to get us out alive.”

 

John leaned back and shook his head. “That is truly amazing,” he admitted to Sherlock. This broke Sherlock gaze from the phone as he lifted his eyes. “You look surprised.”

 

“Normally people tell me to piss off when I deduce them,” admitted Sherlock.

 

John laughed as he shook his head. “Well I guess I can see why. But it’s extraordinary how you did that,” John said again still baffled how the man noticed the smallest details about a person. “What about her,” John asked as they looked across the train to a women who was dressed in all pink. “What can you deduce about her? Not that we will know its true. "

 

Sherlock slipped his phone into his pocket and turned his gaze to the lady in pink. “She is having an affair; in fact she has had a string of them. You can tell how she is unwrapping her wedding ring from a tissue and sliding it back onto her finger. She is coming back from London after one of her one night stands with them.” John looked at him. “She is in the media going by her cloths and how everything matches, see even her suitcase is that ugly shade of pink. No doubt her shoes match as well.”

 

The women looked over and smiled as John and Sherlock as she gave them a slight wave. “Bloody hell you are good,” John chuckled as he turned back to looking at Sherlock.  John looked at his pack and then asked. “Why am I here?” he asked. “I mean you could have left me to get arrested for shooting at that man but you asked me to come. Why?”

 

Sherlock leaned forward and looked at John. “The man that we are dealing with is unlike any human being you have ever met in your life. I don’t even know if he is fully human, he has more power than you think of and more hate in his body. He would do anything to you to get to me.”

 

John nodded his head. “How did you two come to this drastic hatred for each other?” John asked Sherlock as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

 

“He pushed me off a waterfall,” Sherlock said bluntly as he opened up the window. Pulling out his pack of cigarettes he pulled one out of the pack, lit it and took a deep drag and then blew the smoke out the window. They said no more as Sherlock smoked on his cigarette as well as he began to scribble away in his leather bound journal.

 

John needed food. Unlike his fellow companion Sherlock who doesn’t need to eat to have food in his system to be able to function. Grabbing his wallet from his pack John was going to get himself a cup of tea and something to eat. He was going to offer to get Sherlock something but he was focused on researching whatever his brother had told him. 

 

Leaving the car John turned left to get food. While he was walking John heard his phone go off. Pulling it out of his coat pocket he looked down.

 

Coffee. Black two sugars-SH

 

 _How the hell did he get my number?_ John thought as he looked down at his mobile. Pushing the screen up he got to the keyboard and typed out.

 

Does Molly want anything? - John

 

No-SH

 

Did you even ask? - John

 

John was so focused on texting Sherlock that he wasn’t watching where he was walking and right as he hit send he ran into someone. Looking up from his mobile he saw this beautiful woman, she had big brown eyes, her skin was fare almost looked like porcelain. Her hair was deep rich chocolate brown color. “I’m… sorry,” John said trailing off. His phone went off but he ignored it as the women’s painted red lips curled into a smile as she walked past John. He watched as she walked away. Hearing his phone chime again John growled as he pulled it out of his pocket. Two messages, from him.

 

Does it matter-SH

 

The man was a child. John skipped and looked at his second message.

 

Did you get the coffee? -SH

 

John texted him back and shoved his mobile back into his coat pocket and he reached the counter. He got himself a tea with some biscuits. A coffee for Sherlock and then water for Molly. He paid for the food and headed back to their room. Looking throughout the train to see if he could see that women again. She was beautiful and John hoped to redeem himself from looking like an idiot in front of her.

 

Opening the door with his elbow John walked in. Sherlock was on John’s laptop and scribbling something into his notebook. “Don’t want it anymore,” Sherlock told John as he waved the offer of coffee away. John set the coffee down anyway. He paid for it, so help him Sherlock was going to drink it.

 

“Those are going to kill you,” John told him as Sherlock was now on his second cigarette of the day. Sitting down John opened the bag of chocolate biscuits and popped one into this mouth as he waited for the tea to cool off a little.

 

“And is this a proven fact doctor?” Sherlock asked as he exhaled a large cloud of smoke into the air.

 

“Yes,” John told him. “Though by judging on how you are acting I would say you don’t really give a rat’s ass now do you?” he asked.

 

Sherlock looked up as he held the cigarette into his mouth. “Does smoking really bother you that much?” he asked looking at him. “No, it has something to do with your childhood. Your father, he smoked a pack a day. He died of cancer didn’t he?” Sherlock asked him. John clenched his jaw as Sherlock mad that observation.

 

Molly sat up and yawned looking at the boys. She took the water bottle knowing that John had gotten that for her. She unscrewed the top and took a sip. What had Sherlock done now?

 

“Yes so could you stop,” John asked him. “It’s not only bad for you but it’s bad for us to be breathing in the smoke that comes out of you,” John told him taking a sip of his tea. John looked out the door as the women he ran into walking past again. Sherlock looked and noticed as John’s whole body changed.

 

“You find her attractive,” Sherlock told him as he looked down at his coffee.

 

“Why does it matter?” John asked him as he turned his attention to the window.

 

“Well you sat up; your heart rate increased as well as your eyes grew wider as the women walked past. So the only explanation for this is that you find her attractive.” Sherlock pointed out to him. “There is no need to be embarrassed John.”

 

“I’m not,” John said to him as his cheeks flushed.

 

“It’s nothing to be upset about John, chemistry is a human defect,” Sherlock began to explain to him. “Your brain produces chemicals that makes you find females attractive. Most people have that fault.”

 

“I take it the lofty Sherlock Holmes does not?” John asked him.

 

“Girlfriends really aren’t my area.” Sherlock admitted to him.

 

John paused. He needed to climb out of the hole he dug. “Boyfriend?” he asked and then added, “Which is fine.”

 

“I know it’s fine.” Sherlock snapped at him. “But I am married to my work I don’t have time to go running around trying to find someone to be with, I’m better off on my own.” Molly looked down at her water, Sherlock dodged a bullet there but John didn’t seem to care whatever he was. Sherlock reached for another cigarette as John reached over the table grabbing his hand.

 

“Can you not. With the way that you smoke you will die before being shot at by this crazy Moriarty person.” Sherlock laughed as he took the cigarette put it between his lips. He was bringing the lighter up the end when John stood up and grabbed the cigarette out of Sherlock’s mouth and tossed it out the window. “They are going to kill you, you arrogant sod!” John yelled at him as he stood up and looked down upon Sherlock.

 

“I’m 30 years old Dr. Watson I think that I can smoke how many cigarettes that I want and when I want wherever I see the need fit,” Sherlock hissed at him as he was about to reach for another, John grabbed the entire pack out of Sherlock’s long slender fingers and threw them out the window. Standing up Sherlock grunted as he stormed out of the car. “And you say I act like a man child!” he yelled at Molly.

 

John sat down and let out a sigh. “I am sorry.”

 

Molly shook her head as she heard Sherlock making noise as he headed down the hallway of the train. “No it’s um fine,” she said as she looked as John shoved his laptop back into his pack. He was a solider not one to leave his stuff lying about. “Thank you actually.”

 

“I- I saw what those blasted things did to my father I don’t need to see a man who is as smart as Sherlock waste away to a human vegetable because he got cancer from smoking.”

 

Molly nodded her head as John looked out the window. 

 

“I don’t care if he is gay either,” he added. “My sister is gay so I don’t, I don’t want him to think that I care, or that you think I care. I don’t,” John said trying to cover up if he made a mistake. 

 

Molly looked down at her mobile. “Only three more hours till we get off this train.” She said slipping the mobile back into her pocket. “Where a glass of wine is when you need one,” she said leaning her head back and closing her eyes. “God I hate train rides.”

 

Sherlock was pissed. He had no more cigarettes on him and the train wasn’t selling any. He got himself another cup of coffee. He looked to see the women in white that John had been staring at sitting down at a table on her phone. Sherlock looked and saw her ticket lying on the table next to her.

 

 _Irene Adler_.

 

He knew that he had heard that name before. Glancing at her he tried to figure her out. Nothing came to him. Sherlock turned and looked at the man behind the counter.

 

 _Early 30’s lives with his parents still in Cardiff. Owns a dog, no two dogs. Is a vegetarian and has a date planed tonight if the train makes it back to London on time_. He glanced back over at Ms. Adler and nothing. Her skin was smooth and almost fake like. Her white dress fit her body like a glove. She smiled as Sherlock walked over to her.

 

“I think I ran into your friend earlier today,” she said her voice coming out almost poetic. “Tell him I am sorry.”

 

“I will,” Sherlock told her. “You have walked past our car two several times Ms. Adler there must be a reason for it.” He slid in across from her in the booth. Setting his coffee down and then looked back into her eyes.

 

“No, I just get bored on train rides and Kate isn’t here to keep me company,” She said looking up at Sherlock from her phone. “So I was looking to see if I could have some fun.”

 

Sherlock took a sip of his coffee and then asked her, “Did you find any?”

 

Irene’s lips curled into a smile. “I did Mr. Holmes,” she said setting her phone down. “See, I like to play games, all kinds of games to be exact. But recently I’ve decided to play one whose stakes are much higher,” she explained as she placed her delicate hand onto Sherlock’s. “It’s a shame; if the two of us were straight we could have a lot of fun together.” Sherlock looked at her as she leaned in closer. “The game Mr. Holmes is a lot riskier than you thought,” her lips moved and the words seemed to escape her lips in slow motion. “It’s going to explode before you know it and what will be left of you, your trustful side kick Molly the virgin Hooper and the new addiction the doctor?” She asked him. Leaning into his ear she whispered. “You need to be more careful, and not be so cocky that is the down fall of a genius isn’t it.” Lifting her hand from his Irene stood up; grabbing her purse she made her way out of the food car as the train begins to slow down as they reached the station. Stopping in the doorway she smiled, her red lips curling almost in a menacing way. “Jim was right,” she said almost in a laugh.

 

“Right about what?” Sherlock asked as he got up as she walked down the hallway threw the cars. “Right about what!?” He yelled as few people got between him and Irene.

 

“Good bye Mr. Holmes,” she said as she smiled and left the train. Sherlock tried to go after her but it was too late. Running back to his car he pulled the door open, gabbing John’s pack he pulled out the laptop. “Shut up,” Sherlock told him. Pulling up the Internet he typed in her name.

 

“What the hell is that?" Molly asked as she looked over. “Sherlock you don’t take me as a…” Molly said and then stopped. “That was the woman we saw walking.”

 

“Irene Adler she is a dominatrix and she is playing on Jim’s side,” Sherlock explained to her. “He has done something to the train.”

 

“What?!” John asked. “How do you know?"

 

“Why else would she be here? He hasn’t done anything yet but he knows that we have the scabbard,” Sherlock said as he looked around. “Shut up I need to think,” Sherlock yelled as the train jerked forward and began to move again. His eyes closed and his face looked almost like stone as they could see his eyes moving under the lids. “Explosion…” Sherlock said as his eyes flew open. “There is going to be an explosion on the train.”

 

“Jesus…” John said as he took his computer and shoved it back into his pack. Molly was gathering up all her things As Sherlock sat there. “Are you just going to sit there when the train explodes or are we going to tell the conductor?”

 

“There is no time,” Sherlock admitted to him.

 

“We can’t let innocent people die Sherlock!” John yelled.

 

“Than what do we do Dr. Watson? There is bomb on this car and we need to get off the train. Not just move cars but off the train,” Sherlock yelled as he pulled his coat on and then put his pack onto his back. “You can yell bomb but no one is going to believe what you say and by the time they come to check it out it will be too late,” Sherlock explained as he headed out of there room.

 

“How are we supposed to get off the train then?” John asked as he followed Molly and Sherlock.

 

“Jump.” He told them as they walked to a door.

 

“Excuse me,” laughed Molly as they watched the countryside go past them. “There is no way in hell that I am jumping,” she told him as Sherlock tossed open the door and an alarm sounded.

 

“You jump now or blow up,” he yelled as Molly looked at him. She took Sherlock’s hand as Sherlock took Johns and they all three jumped. As they flew through the air they heard yelling from the train door and then nothing.

 

Molly fell hitting her head on something, but she was able to see so that that was what matted. Rolling onto her back she saw that Sherlock was next to her, but John was missing. Standing up Sherlock dusted off his suit and saw that his hand was cut. Mumbling something under his breath he made sure the scabbard was okay and then they looked for John. He was running toward them. Diving onto Sherlock and Molly they both felt heat. It was a warm heat that could have only come from the bomb. John covered his head as Molly and Sherlock did the same.

 

After a few moments they heard people screaming. The train had stopped and people were looking out the windows to see what was going on. John got up and got off Sherlock. “Are you two okay?” he asked helping Molly to her feet as Sherlock again dusted off his cloths.

 

“We need to get walking,” Sherlock said to him ignoring his hand. “They will find us and want to know why we jumped.”

 

“Where do you suggest we go?” John asked him.

 

“Towards the town, we need to get a rental car.” Sherlock explained as he began to walk. John stopped Sherlock as he looked at Molly she had blood dripping down her head. John sat her down behind a tree and he pulled out a first aid kit. Sherlock stood there and watched as John got to work. The man was good. In a matter of seconds the cut was cleaned, stitched and had a plaster on it, and they were back on their way to the local town.

 

“Sherlock I can take a look at that hand for you if you want,” John offered him but Sherlock kept on walking. “Here,” John sad handing him some tape and gauze. “You don’t want to die of an infection.”

 

“I thought I was going to die from smoking,” Sherlock told him.

 

“Well at least when you die you will get the last word,” John mumbled to himself as Sherlock took the gauze from him.

 

~~~

 

John wished that Sherlock would eat. The man refused to eat and he didn’t want to have another row with him. They had reached the town after about an hour of walking. When they stepped into the local café all that was on the news was about the train explosion.

 

“We need to rent a car,” Molly said as she finished off food on her plate. “There is no way we can walk to Devon from here.”

 

“Okay, so we can rent a car,” Sherlock said.

 

“Well,” John said as clearing his throat. “There is Janus Cars across the way.”

 

Sherlock shook his head as he took one of John’s chips off his plate. “I have a bad feeling about that place, is there another one?” he asked.

 

“You have a bad feeling about a car rental?” John asked him a little confused. “Whatever it doesn’t matter, there should be another let’s hope or we will be walking.”

 

Molly looked up at the news. “They were saying it was a fluke with one of the heaters in the cars that made the train explode,” Molly told them. “Why do people believe such stupid things?” She looked back at her two companions.

 

“Because they want to,” Sherlock said as he took another chip from John’s plate. Noticing that Sherlock did want to eat John pushed his plate away from him.

 

“God I’m full,” he said. “How is the head Molly do you need some pain medicine?”

 

She shook her head. “So Sherlock who are we meeting once we get a car and drive to Devon?” Molly asked looking at him, and then to the plate and then to John. “You have told us well… nothing.”

 

“We are meeting with a man named Henry Knight,” Sherlock said as he finished off John’s chips.

 

“And why are we meeting with this name named Henry Knight?” John asked, when he talked with the man it was like pulling teeth.  “And please can you not say ‘we need to talk to him’ for I believe we know that much.”

 

“Well we do John, now please don’t ask any more stupid questions,” Sherlock said as he got up. “I need to get some cigarettes,” he said standing up and walking out of the café and across the street to the convenient store.

 

“How do you not punch him?” John asked as he pulled out his wallet to pay for their food.

 

“You learn to ignore him when he throws a temper tantrum,” Molly explained to him. “He means well, at least I want to think he means well.”

 

John laughed as he stood up and grabbed his pack. “We better check out if there is another car rental place.” Molly agreed and they headed on out of the café. Molly grabbed her phone, pulling out Google to find another car rental. She was lucky to find one somewhat close. Pulling up the number Molly called to reserve a car to drive to Devon.  

 

~~~

 

The drive was quiet. Sherlock sat on his phone in the front of the car. John was asleep in the back. The only thing that was talking was the GPS telling Molly where to turn off. Molly looked in the mirror at John and then over at Sherlock. The two have been at each other like cats and dogs. Yet Sherlock had not told him to piss off and leave. John seemed to be just as stubborn in staying.

 

As they returned the car and began making their way through town to look for a place to stay the night, Molly wondered how long before Sherlock and John either exploded in a massive row…or kissed each other into oblivion.

 

Molly wasn’t sure yet which would be better.


	5. Tale of A Knight

As they made up their way up to the main road, a small canine attacked Sherlock. The dog was so small; John had mistaken it for a very furry cat until it started barking at Sherlock’s shoes. Sherlock gave the dog a glare that the dog ignored and continued trying to bring Sherlock to his knees via nibbling his shoes. John chuckled a little thinking that Sherlock’s death glare wasn’t enough to scare a small animal. John knelt down to pet the dog to calm it down but it only backed up and continued barking. 

“Bluebell, stop that!” a voice called and the dog stopped barking and turned around to run the other way. A man walked up to the dog before picking it up and continuing on to the group of companions. “I’m sorry about that. She got off her leash again.”

“Bluebell?” Sherlock sneered. “What a ridiculous name for a dog.”

“Yeah, but the neighbor girl named her. Said it was in memory of a fairy rabbit or something.” The man tucked the now quieted dog under his arm and held out his hand. “Henry Knight. You guys aren’t from around here, right?”

John spoke up. “Not exactly, you see. We’re looking for a man named Henry Knight?”

“Oh that’s me!” The man stated. “What can I do for you?” 

“We have some questions about your ancestor.” Sherlock brought up his phone and glanced through it. “A…Percival Knight?”

“Funny you should mention that.” The man, Henry, turned and motioned for them to follow. They began making their way further into town. “A guy just called asking about the same thing.”

The three companions exchanged looks. Could Moriarty have gotten the next clue before them?

Henry continued. “Yeah… told him I didn’t know much about the man. Guy on the phone hung up before I could explain that Percival left behind some maps. They were some-” He turned to look at the three of them. “Why is everyone interested in Percival all of a sudden, he died a few hundred years ago.”

“My friends…” Sherlock began. 

“Colleagues.” John interrupted. Molly glanced at him briefly before looking for Sherlock’s reaction.

Sherlock kept his face blank and continued. “My colleagues and I believe that Percival was looking into Gildas’ work.”

“Who?”

Sherlock sighed. “Gildas was a monk in 6th century Britain. His writings are some of the best evidence scholars have for the existence of King Arthur.” 

“Shouldn’t you be looking at the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey then?” Henry chuckled. “Supposedly that’s where his body is buried.”

Sherlock shook his head. “We’re not looking for him. We’re looking for Excalibur.” 

“The sword?” 

“We already have the scabbard.”

“Really? May I see it?”

“Wait, wait.” John interrupted. “You believe him?” He turned to Henry. “I mean he’s brilliant and everything, but from what I’ve seen people don’t usually just give in.”

Henry shrugged. “My father told me stories that his father told him and so on. I haven’t heard tales about King Arthur since my father’s death but…” he trailed off in thought. “They always told the stories as if they were true, not as if they were stories. My father showed me the maps when I was younger and told me that I had to keep them from any museum because they wouldn’t have understood their true value. He said that the maps were based on original drawings by Lancelot himself. I always thought he was joking at the time but…”

“Now you don’t think so?” John questioned.

“I don’t know what to think. But if you’ll make some use out of those old maps, might as well let you take a look.”

“As long as we are not intruding…” Molly said. 

“It’s no problem. If you guys need a place to stay, you can stay at the inn nearby. It only has a vegetarian restaurant though.”

“Should be fine.” Sherlock huffed.

They made plans to meet up again in an hour and the companions made their way to the inn. The inn only had one room left with two beds. Taking the room, they headed up the few steps and into the room. Each of them deciding what bed they would claim as their own. 

John smiled as he set his bags on the bed closest to the window. Then he realized something. He turned to look at Molly setting her own bags down on the other bed. “Where will Sherlock…” he trailed off as the taller man came bursting in.

“I will not require sleep John. I presume that after we have taken a look at Mr. Knight’s maps I will be deep in thought riddling out our next move.”

“So you smoke, don’t eat, and don’t sleep?” John rolled his eyes. “Miracle you’re not dead already.” 

“Are we really going to start on about that again?” Sherlock started. In defiance he lit up a smoke in the room.

John rose to the challenge and Molly quickly intervened.

“Boys not now.” She stepped in front of John but looked up at Sherlock. 

Sherlock only took another breath in before leaving in a huff. 

John backed down only marginally before turning to Molly. “I don’t understand why I’m still here. He’s so damn annoying and I really shouldn’t care. You guys don’t actually need me and I can hang out with my sister till all this is over.” His eyes pleaded for answers from Molly. “Why can’t I just leave him?”

Molly shrugged. “He’s Sherlock Holmes. And you’re Doctor John Watson. Maybe it’s fate?”

“That only exists in stories.”

~~~

They met up with Henry in his rather large mansion and he gently pulled out a large file. Bluebell snoozed underneath the table as she quickly adjusted to the guests. Laying out the maps gently on the table it quickly became apparent that while the maps were old, there had been recent additions and annotations to the map in modern English. 

“Yeah, my great grandfather did that I believe. They wanted to keep the map current. Must be important.” Henry said as he put on the kettle for tea. “I think his own great grandfather annotated it before that.” He turned back to the kitchen when the kettle started to boil. Molly followed him to help. 

John turned to Sherlock who was studying the drawings intently. “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Two things…a lake and an abbey.” Sherlock pressed his palms together in what John was beginning to call his thinking pose. He gestured towards the scabbard, which John gently placed on the table. “Here see this marking?” he pointed to an oval shaped carving in the wood that had a picture of what looked like a faint coat of arms. “Mycroft …explained that it’s an early version of the coat of arms for the Papal States.” Sherlock still seemed angry that his brother had knowledge he did not. “When I first saw the marking it reminded me of a piece of cameos jewelry.” He trailed off and thought some more. He then continued on reluctantly. “Mycroft noticed that the Vatican coat of arms was to hide another, original coat in the cameos.” 

Looking closer John could faintly make out the remains of an original coat of arms. Or rather the top half of a sword and the bottom half of a smaller circle. “A sword in a stone?”

“Exactly. While many believe that Excalibur and the sword Arthur pulled out of the stone to prove his right to the monarchy were not the same sword that action is what gave Arthur the right to rule. It would make sense he would feature it as his seal.”

“Ahh…so we are looking for…?”

“A similar drawing on this map, and like the scabbard’s cameos, it may have been modified.”

John looked over the map with new eyes. He scanned the map carefully noting every annotation and drawing. Suddenly he noticed a peculiar marking on the map…it almost looked like…”Sherlock, look here.” He pointed to a group of triangles indicating a mountain range. “These markings here, they were drawn over an original drawing.” Faintly John made out the faint drawing of a sword in a stone underneath the triangular markings.

“Brilliant, John!” Sherlock reached to touch the same spot and for a moment their hands touched. 

A spark went through John from his hands to his chest. He glanced over at Sherlock to find the taller man looking at him. John felt his cheeks begin to blush. 

“What’s brilliant?” Molly asked as she came in. Her voice broke the tension between Sherlock and John and the looked away from each other. John coughed and turned away from the maps, his cheeks still blazing.

Sherlock launched into a long explanation that the spot John pointed out was actually Llyn Llydaw, a lake in northern Wales and a spot thought to be the residence of the lady of the lake. Of course Arthur’s seal would mark there.

“It is also said that when Arthur lay dying, one of his knights returned the sword to the lake.”

“Good place to at least start looking for the next clue.” Molly said.

John knew that, objectively, he should be annoyed that this adventure seemed to have no end, but as he looked at the taller, dark haired man, he couldn’t have been happier to follow him until he reached journey’s end. The emotion confused John for a moment before he noticed that Sherlock was leaving. John and Molly followed closely behind. 

~~~  
John watched in slight amusement as Sherlock pouted near the window. They couldn’t get to the nearest port until tomorrow to get on a ferry to Wales, much to Sherlock’s dismay. They were actually using the room in the inn to get some rest before their trip. 

John glanced back down at a copy of the map Sherlock drew up from memory, memorizing the location of the lake and perhaps where the sword would be. He then glanced over at Molly, who had fallen asleep several hours ago. His eyes moved over to the clock that stated that the time was near midnight.

“You should get some sleep.” Sherlock’s hushed voice cut through the silence.

John looked towards Sherlock. “So should you.”

“I don’t require sleep while on the chase. I have to think of our next move.”

“We are going to catch the ferry from Bude to Port Talbot then take the train into North Wales and take a taxi to the lake itself. What is there to think about?”

“Moriarty. It worries me that we actually made it in and out of Henry’s house without incident. We have a copy of the map… but he obviously knows that we were headed here as he knew what train we were on and what car we were sitting in. He sent in Irene to distract me, however, she purposely let me know that there would be an explosion on the train, as her wording was much too obvious. But why?” 

John sighed. “That is quite a conundrum. But…” He got up and grabbed Sherlock’s arm before forcefully pulling him down on the bed. “But you can think just as well in a horizontal position on a flat surface as you can leaning against the window.” He patted the duvet. “You can lay on top of the covers, I don’t mind.”

Sherlock looked at him dubiously and John rolled his eyes and turned over, turning out the light. He closed his eyes and wasn’t all that shocked when he felt movement from Sherlock’s side of the bed. 

When the shifting stopped John rolled back over to glance at Sherlock. The taller man was now lying flat on his back with both hands raised to his chin in his thinking pose. John figured the man would continue thinking instead of sleeping, but at least he was now in a more comfortable position. John rolled back over and fell asleep.

~~~

The next morning John awoke to the strange sensation of being held. Two arms wrapped around his waist while a pair of legs sandwiched his own. John only panicked for a moment before realizing who his captor probably was. Sometime during the night Sherlock must have snuck underneath the covers. He turned slightly and sure enough a head of dark curly hair greeted his sight. He turned back around, hoping that Molly hadn’t awoken yet to see them in this compromising position. 

His hopes were dashed when he saw the woman smugly grinning at him from the other bed. She giggled when she noticed his embarrassed expression and whispered “Now do you see why I don’t share a bed with him? He is such a cuddlier.” She shook her head. “I am surprised you got him to sleep though.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just wanted him to think in a more comfortable position.” John muttered before starting to remove himself from Sherlock’s grasp. 

As soon as he shifted out of reach though Sherlock jerked awake and jumped out of bed. He looked and John’s shocked and Molly’s exasperated expression before exclaiming “Is it time to leave yet?”

~~~

John insisted on breakfast with tea before they set out. Sherlock took that time to stop at the local drug store. When he came back he was carrying a bag of nicotine patches. Molly picked one up and read the back of the box, one that had been opened and had three patches missing. “Since when are you quitting smoking?"

“It has come to my attention that smoking is bad for one’s health.”

“Never stopped you before.” Molly pressed.

“Well maybe I found something to quit for.”

John glanced up from his full English breakfast, cheeks blazing. 

Sherlock noticed and clarified. “The case of course. I do consider myself married to my work.” John looked back down to his breakfast, but Molly noticed that Sherlock’s cheeks were now flushed, making her deduce that the case was not the only reason Sherlock suddenly decided to quit.

Henry had come by shortly afterwards to say good-bye. He also dropped off the morning paper which John snatched up and started reading.

He came across another report on the train explosion. There had been 3 deaths as a result of the explosion. Sherlock noticed the headline and rolled his eyes. “Boring.”

Anger coursed through John. “B-boring?” He waved the article in Sherlock’s face. Molly groaned and covered her eyes. And things had been progressing so smoothly. John continued yelling. “They were innocent lives Sherlock! Don’t you care about that?”

“Would have caring about them saved them?”

“Probably not. But it’s not the point. You could at least express some sympathy.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, displeased from John’s concern. “Sentiment doesn’t help anyone so I won’t make that mistake…might as well focus my efforts to preventing Moriarty from doing anymore disastrous things in the future.” He made his way out the door. “Time to go.”

John rolled his eyes but grudgingly followed.

Molly groaned again before taking out two headache relievers and popping them in her mouth. She had a feeling that the rest of the day would be just as headache inducing. She was correct. Sherlock and John bickered all the way to the dock.


	6. Love Boat

John didn’t want to get on the boat. Specifically, John didn’t want to get on a boat with Sherlock. The temptation to throw him over the side into the water was far too great for John at this point. What bothered John so much about Sherlock was well… everything. He was convinced that the man was crazy. Actually crazy and should be locked up. 

Once they boarded John headed up a flight of stairs to find a seat. He didn’t want to be around Sherlock, or Molly. But Sherlock wasn’t going to allow that to happen. “Oh look Molly, the Captain is at it again,” Sherlock said to her. 

“Sherlock, stop,” Molly said as they walked out onto the second story deck. John sat his pack down on a bench and sat down next to it. 

“You know what I don’t understand Captain John Watson,” Sherlock said as John turned to look at him. “How you became a Captain.” 

“No, no, no, no, no” Molly cried as she shook her head. They were in for it now. More people began to fill the deck as Sherlock spoke to John. Molly didn’t know if she would rather run and hide or jump off the side of the boat. 

“I mean, you were an army doctor,” Sherlock explained to him as he stood there looking at John. He shrugged off his pack and walked closer to him. “How does an army doctor become a Captain?” 

“You are smart, surely you know that there is a program that allows students to go thru medical training and are given army ranks.” John said to Sherlock between his teeth. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “Sherlock there are people around so just… can you take a bloody seat and we can have a nice quite boat ride.” John asked him. 

Sherlock laughed. “There may be a program, John. But I can tell that you didn’t go thru it.”

“Fuck off,” John said under his breath to him.

“What?” Sherlock asked as he pushed his buttons further. “I can’t hear you Captain Watson.” 

“I said fuck off!” John yelled as a few heads turned. “Why the hell do you care anyway? Just sit down and stop talking it’s not that hard, well for you, crazy, it might be hard.” 

Sherlock’s jaw tightened. “I’m not a psychopath,” he hissed at him. 

“I didn’t call you a psychopath I called you crazy, there is a difference,” John said through his teeth. “If you want to cause a scene that is fine, I will go in and you can sit out here and sulk and act like the five year old man child that you are.” 

A few more heads began to turn and people stopped to watch the row that was taking place between John and Sherlock. Molly tried to break it up but Sherlock blocked her as John grabbed his pack and stood up. Sherlock wasn’t going to let him get away that easily. Sherlock grabbed John’s arm as he tried to walk away. “Now how does an Army Doctor become a Captain? What, exactly did you do in the army? I mean you don’t kill people when you are an army doctor. Hell you don’t even really see combat now do you? No, you sit in a hospital and patch up people who have seen combat.” Sherlock said as John set down his pack. His face tightened as he looked at Sherlock.

“Please stop Sherlock,” Molly pleaded with him as more heads began to turn and look at the row that was transpiring on the deck. Sherlock just waved his hand at her as to swat her away as if she was a fly. “So help me Sherlock.” Molly said putting her hand up to her head to try and hide her face. Jumping off the side of the boat was looking better and better by the second. “I mean I do know how to swim,” Molly told herself as the boat began to depart from the dock. 

“Mr. Holmes I am warning you that you need to let go of my arm and let me go,” John said in a whisper. 

“Answer my question then I might listen to your request,” Sherlock said looking at him as John pulled his arm free of Sherlock’s grip. “Oh come on Johnny what can be so big and bad I mean I’m not too worried since if we were to get into a fight I mean you’re just a doctor after all.” 

John didn’t want to punch him. He really didn’t want to punch him. “Sherlock people are looking can we just drop it.” 

Sherlock laughed as he John. “Then answer the question.” 

“Why do you care so fucking much!?” John yelled. Heads turned as John’s face grew red with anger. The vein in his neck popped as he yelled at Sherlock. His fists clenched, knuckles turning white. “Why do you bloody care so much what the fuck I did in the war!? At least I did something for the country!” John yelled. At this point he didn’t care was looking; he was going to let Sherlock have what was on his mind. “I didn’t waste my youth on running around and getting arrested for trying to steal some map that is in a book.” John said looking at him. “So if you would move so I can go elsewhere,” John told him as Sherlock put his hand on John’s chest to stop him from moving. “Stop touching me.” John said as he pushed Sherlock’s hand off his chest. Sherlock’s body jerked from the power of John’s push. 

“You are being an idiot you know that,” Sherlock yelled as John walked away from him. “I mean hell answer the damn question!” 

“I was an army doctor Sherlock!” John yelled turning around. “So you can get off your high horse and just deal with it. Sometimes you can’t deduce everything about a person so just leave me alone.” John told him as he kept his voice down. 

“No.” Sherlock said, still following John where he moved. “Are you even a Captain, I mean since you don’t want to talk about it?" Sherlock laughed, Molly knew what he was going to say but before she could act Sherlock opened his mouth and said it. “Did you even get shot when you were in the war? I mean after all your limp was”- Sherlock was stopped abruptly. Molly watched as John took his left hand, clutched in a tight fist moved fast in the air as he hit Sherlock right on the top of his cheekbone on the right side of his face. 

There were some gasps on the deck, as well as a few people who clapped for John. Molly stood there with her hands over her face. No one, not even Jim or Sebastian Wilkes had the power to physically punch Sherlock was he was being a prick. 

Sherlock stumbled back a little as John shook his hand out. “You don’t know me; you don’t know anything at all. You are just an arrogant twat who can run around the whole of London and not worry about the consequences because you have your big brother in the government to bail you out whenever you want,” John yelled as Sherlock stood up with his hand on his face. The man actually punched him, broke skin to make him bleed. “So why don’t you just fuck of Mr. Holmes! When this boat docks I’m taking that stupid sword holder, I don’t give a flying arse what it’s really called,” John added as he looked at him. “And I’m going to Scotland Yard. I’m not going to be running after a crazy man any longer!” John grabbed his pack, the scabbard and headed away from Sherlock. 

Sherlock looked at Molly; her face was bright red realizing that a large part of the riders had watched the row take place. Sherlock grabbed his pack as he pulled out a lighter and a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. Molly realized that he must have purchased them when they were at Cross Key’s. Scowling Sherlock headed to the back of the ship saying nothing to Molly.

Molly stood there wishing that she would either die or turn invisible but sadly neither of those happened. Heading back into the boat she wanted to get away from the gawking eyes. Walking in she saw John getting a cup a tea and sitting down at a table. He looked at her as she set her pack down and sat across from him. “I’m sorry about that.” 

“You apologize for him to?” John asked her. “Sorry, that was rude.” John shook his head as he looked down at his tea. “I meant what I said, I’m leaving once this boat docks and I get back to dry land.” 

Molly nodded her head as John pushed over his bag of biscuits towards her. Molly took a few and put them in her hand. “I know it’s probably not my place, or the right time but I need to tell you John, that Sherlock isn’t used to be being contradicted. People normally just follow him blindly into situations and not thinking twice about it.” 

“You make him sound like The Doctor,” John said looking at her. 

“Not in a cool “I have a time machine” way,” Molly corrected him. “There is a lot that Sherlock doesn’t talk about in his life; I have known him for ten years John. That is a long time and to really see the character and the heart of a person.” 

“You mean the man has one?” John asked stirring the milk in his tea. 

“Yes it might be two sizes to small but he has one,” Molly admitted as she took a deep breath. “But in the few short days I have seen you two together he tried to quit smoking, he was kinder when he talked to people and he seemed happy again.” 

John turned his gaze toward the window. 

“Everyone has a past, something that they don’t look favorably upon. I know I have a few and I’m sure that you do to. Sherlock is the same. He has been trying to run away from those, afraid that they will come back to haunt him. Instead of learning he tries to delete them.” 

John chuckles as he shakes his head. “Then why is he so interested in learning my past?”

“Because he knows there is something that you are hiding and he doesn’t like that.” Molly explained as she ate a few biscuits. “You’re like a magic trick. He can see what you want him to see. And usually he can see how the trick works. But with you he can’t. He can’t see what the magician is hiding. And that bothers him.”

“So he really is like a little kid?” John grinned.

Molly nodded. “Yes.”

They both laughed for a bit before Molly continued.

“I’ve seen him at the lowest of lowest and highest of highs. Quite literally. Though I have to admit I have never seen him as happy as he was when the two of you were working on this together. You have a way of making people better when you are around John. He can be a child, at times, I wonder if he has even gone through puberty, but please don’t go.” 

John shook his head. “I have to; I can’t do this Ms. Hooper.” John admitted to her. John took a deep breath in and then looked up at her. “I… ‘Highest of highs?’ you mean…” John asked her. Molly said nothing as she looked at him. “I’m not going to be his personal punching bag. He talks down to me like I’m an idiot.” 

Molly smiled. “He does that to everyone though, John.” 

John looked down at his tea as the steam came off of it. “But I won’t take it. He said things that were far from crossing a line of decency. It’s going to take more than a half ass ‘I’m sorry’ from Sherlock to do the trick.” 

Molly nodded her head. She didn’t want John to leave. “I know I’m actually happy you punched him. It was a long time coming actually.” 

“The man is a genius but he acts like a five year old, why?” John asked Molly. 

Molly knew, but it wasn’t her place to give John Sherlock’s whole life story. “He didn’t have a childhood you would think the man would have had, he had some troubles in Uni and after. The man is a genius but he gets bored and when he gets bored he does stupid things. He doesn’t show emotion for a good reason, but because of you I saw something that I hadn’t seen in Sherlock in a good several years.” 

“What is that?” John asked her.

Molly smiled, “an actual smile. Not his face smile he uses to get what he wants from people John, but a true and genuine smile.” 

John looked at his coffee and he pressed his lips together. 

“You both are very prideful men. You are prideful for you feel the duty to do the right thing, to save people. You were in the military and that has been drilled into your brainwork. Sherlock is prideful because he is a genius. But when there are those few seconds when you two are not yelling and wanting to kill each other… you are two brilliant men that can’t see what is in front of them.” 

John looked up at her, “I’m not gay Molly.” 

“Neither is Sherlock,” she pointed out to him as she saw a mysterious dark figure pacing the back of the boat now on what looked to be his second cigarette. “There are more than just the two paths of gay and straight that society has kindly made for all of us.” She pointed out standing up; placing a hand on her shoulder she gave it a squeeze and headed out to the back of the boat. “One stubborn man talked to, an even more stubborn man to go,” she said to herself as she walked back out onto the deck. 

A few people looked at her, but she had something more important on her mind. As she walked Sherlock was tossing a finished cigarette into the waters as he pulled out another. Lighting it, he took a deep breath in and then exhaled a large cloud of smoke. “What?” he asked her not turning his gave from the water behind them. 

"What happened to the patches?" Molly asked placing her hand on the rails. “It was nice, you not always smelling of tar.” Sherlock looked at her grimaced and turned back to look at the water. Molly was going to try a new approach. A more direct approach "John was right Sherlock you can't act that way." 

"Oh wonderful now you’re taking his side," Sherlock remarked as he blew smoke into the air. “Why don’t you just leave with him and turn me in as well.” He stopped as he looked at her. “That was a bit childish…” Molly nodded her head as she looked at the water behind them. 

"I’m not taking sides, what I am saying Sherlock is that both of you have pride issues." Molly corrected him. "Hence the very wonderful display of hate that occurred on the top deck. But that is beside the point Sher." 

"Then can we get to the point of the conversation Molly?" Sherlock asked as he turned his attention away from her. “You know I’m not the biggest fan of idle chit chat.” His hand reached up to his cheek and stopped. It did hurt to touch it. John knocked him a good one. 

Molly pushed her hair behind her ear as the June wind blew. She knew what she was going to say would either go off well or he would tell her to piss off. "You can't keep running from feelings Sherlock." Dropping the cigarette into the water Sherlock was reaching for his fourth. Molly put her hand on his and looked at him. "I know. Okay, I was there, remember, I know what you are running from but god Sherlock please do not run from this." She pleaded with him. 

Sherlock looked at his hand and dropped the pack of cigarettes into the water. "I can't." his voice was faint like a child’s. 

"You can Sherlock, look you bought patches. You didn't even go that far and we have been friends for 10 years," Molly told him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and turned her gave up to meet his blue eyes. "Sherlock you know I love you and care for you like a brother, I don't like to see you lash out at people because you are afraid and I know that is what it is." 

"I'm not going down that road Molly, I did it once and you know where it got me." He looked into the water really wishing that he didn’t just toss his cigarettes away. Molly nodded. She knew all too well. She was the one who sat up at night and Sherlock cried out in pain as he went through detox. She sat as he vomited up everything, shook and tried to take his life for the pain was too much for him to take. She had seen the lost soul that he once was and how when he was with John his eyes seemed to fully come alive. 

"Leave. I need to think." Sherlock said turning away from her. 

"God men are so dense," Molly said. She didn’t want to be near either of them at the moment. 

~~~

Sherlock set a cup of coffee down in front of John. “Cream, no sugar.” He said as John looked up from his book. He took the cup as Sherlock sat down across from him. “I was wrong. I admit that I was wrong.” 

John nodded as he took a sip of the coffee. It wasn’t so bad for being made and served on a boat. He was about to turn his attention back to his book but Sherlock kept on talking. 

“I should have never said you never saw combat, or that you saving people’s was nothing.” 

John cleared his throat, put the bookmark into his book and closed it. “Did Molly tell you what to say?” 

“No,” Sherlock told him. “I can form my own apology and I am.” Sherlock explained as his eyes met John’s. Though John was a soldier his eyes still looked as young and pure as the day he was born. Sherlock never noticed this before. He almost felt guilty as he stared at them for too long. “I can act like a child when people don’t always listen to me…” 

“Let me see your face,” John said as he unzipped his pack and grabbed a first aid kit and bottle of water. He moved seats so he was sitting next to Sherlock so he could clean his face. “You can still apologize to me when I clean you cut,” he explained to him as Sherlock gave a small smile on the side of his mouth. 

“I was wrong. I don’t want you to leave. And I promise not to smoke anymore.” Sherlock said wincing as John cleaned the cut he made on his face. 

“I’m sorry to,” John admitted as he looked into Sherlock’s blue, or where they green; now they even looked gray eyes. “I was out of line to talk to you like that and I was out of line to punch you,” he explained as he put some ointment on it and then looked for a band-aid. “I have a bad temper and you seemed to know where to push my buttons to make me go off on you.” 

Sherlock nodded as John reached across the table to put his first aid kit back into his pack. As he did Sherlock saw John’s jumper rise up as well as the button down that was under it, from what he could see he saw that John was fit. The man dressed like in several layers but he was a fit as a 26 year old. Sherlock shook his head and tore his gave away from the small patch of John’s stomach and back he was seeing. “I’ve always had a problem with words.” 

John laughed as he grabbed his coffee. “No, you speak fine; half the time I don’t even know what words you are using. No Sherlock you don’t have a problem with words.” John took a sip of his coffee. His body has loosened up and he didn’t look like he was going to kill Sherlock anymore. “May I ask why you talk like that half the time?” 

“My brother. You would think the man lived back in the 19th century with the way he talks so lofty and far above the common folk, me included. He did it even when we were children. Use to drive me crazy. Though mother and father didn’t seem to mind all that much.” 

John nodded. “At least he can sound educated. When I talk to my sister she sounds like a teenager still with the way she speaks. Not like a 30 year old woman.” 

“I don’t know which one is worse,” Sherlock admitted as John giggled. Sherlock couldn’t help himself from laughing at the sheer sound of that. “So, do you still plan on leaving us when we get to Wales?" Sherlock asked looking at him. He needed to know, he wasn’t going to take the scabbard if John said yes. 

“No,” he admitted to him. "I don’t want to sit on a train worried that if I leave you and Molly that you will do something idiotic or stupid and get yourself killed.”

"I would never think of it," Sherlock said sitting back in his chair. 

“After all you did say this Moriarty guy would stop at nothing.” John added as he took another sip of his coffee.

Molly watched as her stubborn boys talked, and then began to laugh. "My evil plan is actually working," Molly chuckled to herself. "It's actually working." 

~~~

The boat was going to dock in less than an hour, they needed to eat. Once they got to Wales Sherlock was on a mission and nothing was going to divert him from that. Paying for two sandwiches, three bags of crisps, chocolate biscuits and three waters Molly headed back to the table where Sherlock was digging though hit pack. 

After smoking more than a half carton of tags he needed a fix but he didn't want to smoke. He also couldn’t for he had tossed his cigarettes over the side of the boat very early into their journey. John looked up and unzipped a pocket in his pack. "Here," John said to Sherlock as he handed him a box of nicotine patches. 

"Thanks," Sherlock told him. "I’m sorry that I”-

"Tossed them into the water like a five year old having a fit,” John said to him. “It’s okay, I managed to grab a box before they all disappeared into the abyss." Sherlock raised his eyebrow and nodded at John. 

When Molly reached the table she set the food down Sherlock handed John a sandwich, crisp and water. Sherlock took the chocolate biscuits and pushed the other food toward Molly. Sherlock opened the box of nicotine patches and pulled out three. Rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt he put three onto his arm. Giving a faint one Sherlock closed his eyes and then opened the. He was able to think now. 

As Sherlock sat there in a state of bliss John unwrapping his sandwich, taking one half of it, taking a bite he noticed five slender fingers reaching over and taking the other half. Sherlock looked at John and then put the sandwich into his mouth. "Do you want a sandwich Sherlock?" Molly asked, as she was about to get up. 

"No," he informed her. "Half of John’s is fine." 

John looked at Molly and shrugged. "At least he is eating," he pointed out to her as he took another bite of his half of a sandwich. Molly sat there and watched them. Sherlock had stopped smoking, and this time it was for good. He was eating while they were chasing down a lead and he was laughing. John was an angel sent to make Sherlock better. But Molly also realized that Sherlock was an angel for John as well.


	7. Invisible Cars

The trip got quite smoother after that. After landing in Wales, they caught a train up to Beddgelert. After Sherlock took a quick look at all the train cars and determined the train safe and clear of any threat, Moriarty or otherwise, John and Molly took a quick nap. Molly purposely claimed all the comfortable suitcases and bags to use as pillows, leaving John with the only remotely comfortable thing in site: Sherlock’s lap. 

John tried to be modest and went to sleep leaning against the window at first, but soon the train hit a slight bump and his body jerked, his head falling into Sherlock’s lap. Sherlock jerked out of his thinking pose when he felt the extra weight on his lap. John slept comfortably, and Sherlock deduced that he slipped into a deeper level of sleep by noticing John’s rapid eye movements. Sherlock only briefly contemplated if this new development was a distraction or not, and decided that if it was a distraction, it was a welcome one. He rested one hand in John’s hair and continued thinking.

He knew that Moriarty would catch up with them eventually, it was inevitable. They had advised Henry before they left that he should try to go on holiday soon to avoid Moriarty’s minions, but that would only be a temporary measure. 

John let out a little snort in his sleep and inched closer to Sherlock’s hand. His movement put the train of thought about Moriarty on hold and brought in a whole new unexpected train of thought: Sherlock’s feelings for John.

Never having been an affectionate being, the Sebastian incident caused Sherlock to close himself off even more. Molly was only allowed in because of her involvement before and during the fallout of Sebastian’s shenanigans. Despite Sherlock’s often-cruel words and harsh moods, Molly stuck it out and even betrayed his own trust for his own good when she asked Mycroft for help to send Sherlock to rehab. Sherlock was angry with her, but eventually forgave her knowing that despite his own harsh words, Molly always counted. It was shortly after that incident that Molly finally lost any traces of infatuation she had for Sherlock and began to treat him like a friend and brother. 

But Sherlock was starting to realize that his feelings towards John were beginning to seem more than just friendly. Sherlock may claim that he is unemotional, but he does recognize some emotions for what they are, and the slight jump in his chest and the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach whenever John smiled definitely point to an infatuation with and affection for the doctor. 

And of course there’s the slight un-comfortableness in his pants whenever the army doctor stared at him or touches him that point to an affection of a different sort.

Sherlock hurriedly stopped that train of thought before it led to John’s pillow becoming harder than a rock. That would have been a conversation Sherlock knows he isn’t ready for quite yet.

~~~

The train stopped in Beddgelert and the companions stepped off the train, Molly and John well rested. They stopped at the hotel Sherlock managed to book for the night, citing that with two companions in tow, they may as well make sure that rest is included with every stop. The inn wasn’t filled, as could be seen with the two autos and single motorbike in the parking built for many more vehicles, and so they were all allowed their own rooms for cheap. Their full payment in cash only caused a raised eyebrow but no further trouble. They went to their rooms to get their luggage settled. 

The front desk called Sherlock shortly after to inform him that the taxi he requested was here to take them to Llyn Llydaw. 

The taxi ride only took a quarter of an hour, but within that time frame Sherlock managed to deduce that the taxi driver, Jefferson Hope, was single but had two or more kids at home and that he was dying of a brain aneurism. John and Molly looked at Sherlock in horror at his last deduction but the taxi driver seemed to just take it in stride and laugh at their faces, saying that driving a taxi is the best fun a guy could have on an aneurism. Sherlock merely raised an eyebrow, but said nothing further.

The taxi dropped them off at the lake, and Hope promised to be back in an hour and a half to pick them up. 

The lake was noticeably filled with tourists, even in the off-season. One, possibly on a dare, had even braved the lake’s chilly temperatures to take a swim. Molly turned to Sherlock, “The Lake’s not that large, and I would think if it was here, someone would have noticed by now.”

Sherlock nodded. “It was only a hunch anyway. Moriarty most likely has people following us. Best let them at least have the illusion of having a clue.” He pointed to a spot further north, into the green grass littered with stones. “But our trip and money wasn’t for nothing. I still want to see how deep the lake gets before completely becoming too deep.” Without much further ado, Sherlock quickly and methodically stripped down to his pants. John blushed a flaming red but didn’t (or couldn’t) look away.

Molly just stood there with her hands on her hips. “Really Sherlock? It’s freezing.”

“No time like the present.” Sherlock smirked before diving in, the water’s chilly temperature appearing to have no effect on him. He managed to swim out quite a bit before turning to shout at Molly and John at the shoreline. “My feet barely reach the bottom here. This is as far as King Arthur could probably go!” His voice seemed unusually loud, even at the distance, and carried over the lake. Several tourists looked over at the strange man in the lake before returning to their own conversations. 

Sherlock swiftly returned to the shoreline with quick powerful strokes. John met him with his coat at the shoreline. “What on earth was that for? The whole bloody lake heard you.”

“Just leaving a clue for Moriarty’s minions to report back.” Sherlock stammered, the cold finally getting to him. 

“Was it worth risking hyperthermia?” John asked before wrapping Sherlock in his own long coat and quickly tearing off his own as extra layering. “Jesus, didn’t get much training for this in the desert. Molly can you hand me his dry clothing?”

Molly swiftly passed Sherlock’s trousers and shirt over.

John looked Sherlock in the eye and noticed that it was slightly unfocused. “Now Sherlock, we need to get your wet pants off and into trousers right away. Can you do that?”

Sherlock nodded. John turned to Molly only to find her with her back turned. “Hey, can’t you help out a little?”

“Really John? Really? I’m female. Even I have to draw the line somewhere.” With her back turned, John couldn’t see her smirk or the glint of humor in her eyes. 

John just rolled her eyes. He turned back around to find Sherlock already in the process of stripping off the last remaining article of clothing on him, his feet getting caught up in the leg holes and the coat barely covering his backside from the eyesight of tourists.

John’s cheeks reddened for the umpteenth time today at the sight of Sherlock on display. He quickly turned away to hide his cheeks. Sherlock wordlessly put on his pants, shirt, and suit jacket and coat before diving into John’s arms. “Cold.”

“Excellent deduction, Sherlock. Maybe next time you’ll think your plan through before diving in.”

“I did. The plan is moving along perfectly. Now if you could just wrap your warmth around me, my plan will be completely successful.”

John blushed, but couldn’t decide if the detective was completely serious or not. 

Molly had heard the conversation and grinned full out. It appears that Sherlock was going to take matters into his own hands about his obvious love for the short army doctor.

~~~  
A taxicab did pick them up later, but it was a different driver. Sherlock was too cold to think much of it and only followed John into the warm confines of the cab. Molly followed behind and quickly realized something. 

“Oh, we never paid our first taxi driver for our trip.”

“No worries, Miss. Our headquarters isn’t that far from your hotel. You can take care of it there.”

“I’ll take care of it when we get back Molly.” John whispered, thinking that Sherlock was asleep.

Indeed, Sherlock was somewhere between wakefulness and asleep and only registered that John’s warmth would soon be leaving him. He gripped John’s jumper tighter, hoping that it would be enough of a deterrent, before drifting off again. 

The next time Sherlock awoke, he was alone on a bed. “John?! John!” His slurred speech caused the name to sound more like “Jawn” but the message went through and the opened door.

But much to Sherlock’s dismay, it was Molly who poked her head through. “Sherlock. What are you doing up?” She came further inside and pushed Sherlock gently back onto the bed. “John said you should rest for a few more hours.”

“Where’s John?” Sherlock questioned, his speech becoming less slurred and more sure of itself.

“John left not too long ago. He’s going to pay the bill for the first taxi driver.” Molly motioned to some pills and water on the counter. “John said you should take these as soon as you woke up. It’s just some medicine for any headaches you may have due to your swim.”

Sherlock nodded and took only one of the pills. He needed to stay at least somewhat clearheaded. Molly left to get hot water for tea.

Sherlock moved into a more comfortable position and reviewed the events of the day. As he reached the point of the taxi drivers he suddenly realized something was off. He reached for the phone and dialed the number for the taxi company. A quiet secretary answered the phone. 

“Yes Hi, my friends and I took one of your cabs today and forgot to pay the bill. A friend of mine is walking down now to pay it but I just wanted to make sure he had enough cash on him to pay.”

“Certainly, sir. What is the name of the taxi driver so we can review his records?”

“Jefferson Hope.”

There was a quiet clicking on the other end before a hesitant voice spoke up. “Sir? There must be a mistake. There isn’t a Jefferson Hope in our employee records.”

“Are you the only taxi service in town? Is there another one?”

“No sir. It’s just us.”

“Thank you. Yes it must be just a mistake. I’ll call my friend to see if I haven’t gotten it muddled again.”

He quickly hung up and dialed a different number. The phone rang for several moments before a nearly inaudible click signified that it had been answered. Sherlock quickly started shouting, “John! John come back! It’s a trap! John! The taxi driver is one of Moriar---“

“Oh Sherlock. You should really know that if you’re gonna get new pets, you really shouldn’t let them wander around on their own.” A high-pitched voice answered.

“Jim.”

“Sherlock.” Jim gave a dark chuckle. “Now really, how long were you gonna lead me around on some petty false clues and riddles like some annoying American adventure film? It’s been a fun game, but daddy’s had enough now.” The voice got even more annoying than usual. 

“What do you want? Where is John?” 

“Oh don’t worry about him. He’s safe…ish. Well about as safe as you can be staring down the barrel of a rifle.”

“Don’t you dare—“

“DON’T THREATEN ME!” Jim shouted over him. “Really don’t. You and I both know that it doesn’t work.” Jim sighed into the phone. “So here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna meet me down here by the lake, you’re gonna bring the scabbard. And you’re gonna tell me everything you know about the location of the sword. And in return, I’ll let you go.”

“How did you even know John would leave?” Sherlock tried to stall to get Molly’s attention as she returned with hot water. Understanding that she had to be quiet, Molly leaned down to read Sherlock’s writing. He motioned for her to use the GPS feature on John’s phone to figure out where it was. He wrote down the passwords he had deduced ages ago and handed them off to her. Molly grabbed John’s laptop and fired it up. Quickly typing in all the information, the site slowly began tracking John’s phone. 

On the phone Jim laughed. “Trying to stall Sherlock? How unlike you? This pet mustn’t mean much then if you’re wasting time. Even you must have figured that out by now.”

“The taxi driver.”

“Bingo. Yep, Old Jeffy is on my payroll. Don’t worry about a tip. He was taken care of soon after you’re little trip.” 

“And Irene? Is she one of yours too?”

“Oh dear, times up. Surely you tracked this phone call by now. Meet me in an hour Sherlock. And bring everything.” Jim swiftly ended the call.

“I got it.” Molly showed Sherlock where the phone was last seen. It was right next to the lake. “What are you going to do Sherlock? You can’t just give the scabbard to him. He’ll destroy it trying to see what you saw.”

“Don’t worry Molly. I’m always working on a plan. Can you see about renting a car? Preferably something with speed. We may need to get out of here quickly.”

“What about you?”

Sherlock glanced out the window at the motorbike that was still in the parking lot. He then retrieved John’s gun from where it was hiding in his pack. “I’m going to retrieve our doctor.”

~~~

Sherlock was furious; Molly could tell by the way he took off running out of the room. She prayed he wasn’t going to do something stupid. Looking on the ground she noticed John’s pack was undone and his cloths on the ground. “Oh shit,” she said see the extra bullets and a missing gun, as well the scabbard sitting there on the bed the carrying case gone. “He is going to do something stupid.” Molly told herself as she tossed John’s cloths back into his pack.

Sherlock ran out of the hotel, across his body was the strap that was attached to the case that the scabbard used to be in. He had John’s army gun stuck in the back of his trousers hidden by his suit jacket. His eyes scanned around for a way to get to John. He knew where he was. It was the boathouses by the lake. His eyes looked over the old jeep and then they fell upon the motorbike that sat there. Walking over to is Sherlock knew he would be able to hot wire it, but hope sprung to his chest as he saw the keys were still in the bike. “Idiot,” Sherlock said to himself as he swung his left leg over the bike and sat down. Turning the key in the ignition the motorbike started up with a roar. Learning to the right Sherlock tore out of the parking lot of the hotel and onto the A4086 headed toward the lake.

The ride was short, mainly because Sherlock was going double the posted limit. As he came to the boathouse, he slowed the bike down and pulled in. His eyes taking in everything that he saw. One thing he didn’t see was Jim. As he grew closer Sherlock spotted John. He was sitting on a chair, not tied down their first mistake. But the man who was holding a gun at John wasn’t Moran. No he was a newbie someone who was in training. Sherlock grimaced as he thought of Moriarty training people to do killing. Sherlock stayed on his bike, “Where is Jim?”

“Give me the scabbard and I will give you your friend.” The new man, only 21 said his voice shaking a little as he tried to come off as confident. Sherlock laughed, he wasn’t stupid but this kid was.

John raised his eyes as he looked at Sherlock, as their eyes met it was as if he knew. “See young one,” Sherlock said as a smile began to sneak across his face. “I don’t think your boss or the idiot Moriarty told you that John was in the Military. They tend to have more than one gun on their person at a time.”

As Sherlock said that John grabbed the small gun from his ankle. Turning around he shot the kid in the arm. Falling back and dropping the gun John got up from the chair, grabbed the extra gun and then ran over to the motorbike. “Do I want to know where you got this?” he asked Sherlock as Moran walked through the door.

“Really John?” Sherlock yelled as John got onto the back of the motorbike. “Hang on!” John slid his body close to Sherlock’s, wrapping his left arm around his body. Turning his body slightly John watched as they tore out of the boathouse and to the main road.

“He has a car,” John explained to Sherlock as he picked up some speed. John was holding the gun steady with his right hand. Waiting. His body seemed to change from the John he knew to Soldier John. He seemed alert to all of his surrounds; his eyes never left the back of the bike as they drove. Sherlock thought they were in the clear, but he looked down and saw John’s arm tense up around him. His muscle flexing as he held Sherlock closer. “Moran?” he asked as he heard another, much bigger motor behind them.

“Yes,” John said as he took a few shots, trying not to shatter the windshield of the car. He didn’t need him to have a better shot at them on a motorbike. The sun was setting and they were going to be battling against two odds soon. Moran and the dark. “Is that my gun?” John yelled into Sherlock’s ear as he saw his army gun sticking out of the back of his trousers.

Sherlock had to do control himself as John spoke into his ear. His breath was warm and calm. But they had to focus on the task at hand. Turning his head slightly his deep brown curls blowing in his face he smiled at him and said, “Yes, you thought I was going to save you and not bring the Army Doctor his gun?” John could have kissed him as he grabbed his gun.

Moran was keeping his distance; John knew that meant he was planning something. John’s brain began to think. A few yards ahead of them was some wooded area. “Do you trust me?” John asked Sherlock as he leaned in and spoke into his ear.

“Always.” Sherlock told him. “And forever.” He added as he looked into his deep blue eyes. He did trust John, he trusted him with his entire life.

“Okay,” John said. “When I tell you I need you to divert and drive into the woods.” John was waiting for him to protest, calling him a nutter or flat out tell him no. But all Sherlock did was nod his head. John turned his gaze back to Moran, who was half hanging out of the car, he knew that he got his gun loaded and was ready to fire at them.

The wind blowing John’s jumper and coat behind him, he opened his body up more as he held his gun steady in his right hand. Lowering it so he was looking at the car tire he tired two shots. Moved his am and then fired another two. “Now!” John yelled as he leaned into Sherlock and they both leaned to the left as Sherlock went into the woods. Sherlock heard a loud popping noise and a few shots but nothing that could get to them.

Sherlock looked behind him, there was no headlights following them. He then turned and looked as John had a pleased smiled on his face. “What did you do?” he asked slowing the bike down a little. 

“Blew out the bastards’ front tires,” Sherlock looked at John and they both broke out into a fit a giggled. “Stop we can’t giggle. I feel there is some guy code where you can’t giggle after a high speed car chase and a shootout.” John told him. He turned his body in toward Sherlock’s. He wrapped both of his still tan arms around Sherlock’s thin torso. “We can get back on the main road; we need to get to Molly and then head back to London.” He explained as he placed his chin on Sherlock’s shoulder so he could talk to him in his ear. “I heard Moriarty and Moran talking that is where he is going.”

“What about Moran?” Sherlock asked.

“He will be after us. I’m sure he can get a car just as easy as we can get one. One call and Moriarty will have one that flies for him,” John said as Sherlock got back onto A4086 and headed to the hotel.

“Did them, um, hurt you?” Sherlock asked as they speed down the road. He looked okay, but he didn’t know for sure. He felt John’s body laugh as he held onto Sherlock.

“No, I’m a soldier Sherlock I can take a lot,” he told them as he kept his chin on Sherlock’s shoulder as he drove.

When they got back to the hotel Molly was finishing packing up a red jaguar, Sherlock parked the motorbike back where he had barrowed it from. Getting off he and John headed over to where Molly was. She tossed the keys to Sherlock. She wasn’t in a mood to drive; Sherlock in turn tossed the keys to John. “I had fun with the motorbike you can drive the Jag.” He said to him.

“I will pass,” John said tossing them back to Sherlock.

“It’s a jag, I thought”- Sherlock stopped as John cut him off.

“I don’t have a license,” John told them as he stood by the car. “I live in London when I was studying at King’s College in London, and then I went into the Military. You don’t really need one there and well I live in London. Who has a car in London?” he asked.

“You really can’t drive?” Molly asked as a pair of keys was tossed at her head. “Really?” she asked Sherlock as she got into the driver’s seat. Sherlock sat in the front as John got into the back with the bags.

Molly put the key into the ignition, as the engine purred; she put the gear into drive, her foot slamming onto the gas. The wheels of the car spun before they caught any traction and took off. She decided to take the main roads, less chance for the sick bastards to try and shoot at them, or at least she hoped. “Do you have any more surprises for us solider?” Molly asked him as Sherlock was looking back as John pulled out a knife and another gun.

“Once a soldier always a soldier,” Sherlock said. 

“So they tell me,” John said looking up at him and handed him a gun. “Don’t waste the bullets,” he said zipping his pack back up and leaning against the back seat. “Who the hell knew that a scabbard would make a man want to physically harm and kill people.”

“He isn’t a man, he is a psychopath,” Sherlock explained as he put John’s gun in the back of his trousers. But he didn’t want to talk about Moriarty; he had something else that was on his mind. “But um, what you did on the bike that was um good, they teach you army doctors how to use a gun?”

“Not really,” John said to him bluntly as he closed his eyes. “But they train special force Captains.” Molly laughed as she shook her head. Looking in the rearview mirror at John. Sherlock sat in the front seat looking baffled. “I was shocked you couldn’t deduce that about you, since everything else seemed to be so easy.”

“No…” Sherlock said as he looked at John. His hair was wet around the brow from sweat. Not from the fear but from the stress of not knowing. His body was still stiff and soldier like as he sat in the back, his gun on his lap. His breathing was steady but Sherlock could tell his heart was racing. He enjoyed it, the chase, the race and the danger. “I would have never guessed.”

John said nothing but smiled as he looked out the window. “Do you think we will make it to London without a problem?”

“No,” Sherlock said taking a deep breath. “But we can hope.” Did all three of them ever hope.


	8. Crash and Burn

Sherlock looked at John; he looked like he was asleep in the front of the car. His gun in his lap as his head leaned against the window. Molly was lying down in the back of the Jag passed out as well. They had been on the road for two hours and no sign of Moran. No sign of Moriarty. The fear of them following them diminished after the first hour. 

“John,” Sherlock asked in a whisper. 

John mumbled something as he opened his eyes. Sitting up he looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was 8pm. He was tired, hungry and needed to piss. “We should stop and get some petrol,” John said stretching his arms as he looked at the petrol gage. “We don’t want to be caught low.” 

“Okay,” Sherlock said as he unrolled the window. It was a nice 19 degrees Celsius out. The fresh air was more than welcomed. “So,” Sherlock said trying to think of a way to begin a conversation with John. “How does any Army Doctor go into the Special Forces?” 

“I don’t know,” John admitted to him as Sherlock’s thumbs drummed the steering wheel of the car. “They needed men and when they trained me, well I was able to do double duty at times.” John cleared his throat and looked out the window. “How does a brilliant man like yourself get caught up in something as crazy as this?” 

“I wanted to prove people wrong. Jim, well Jim wants the money,” Sherlock explained John; he kept his eyes on the road as they drove. 

“That was never what you wanted. The fame and glory?” John asked resting his head in the palm of his hand as he looked at Sherlock. 

Sherlock scoffed. “No.” he turned and looked at John and then turned his attention back to the road. “I don’t need the money and fame is a fleeting thing. One second you are all people can talk about and then the next minute they don’t even remember your name. No I wanted to prove to myself that I could do this.” 

John nodded his head. “I hope you know that you are proving people wrong, I only met your brother for a second but you are proving him wrong.” Sherlock’s lips began to twitch as they tried to smile. He didn’t want to show that to John so he summed up his serious Sherlock face. “You have proved me wrong; I thought you were just a complete nutter when you kidnapped me.” 

“You volunteered your services for us,” Sherlock said correcting John as he held up a hand. 

“Okay,” John chuckled as he shook his head. “But I mean I still think you are a nutter, but everyone is in their own way. You are a brilliant man Sherlock Holmes and you could do so much with that brain and how you can see the smallest detail that the common man misses.” 

“It’s because everyone is an idiot,” Sherlock retorted without thinking. “I mean… thank you.” he stopped, glancing out of the corner of his eye at John.

“Have you ever thought about, I don’t know going to work for Scotland Yard?” 

“No, I would never get drawn in for working for the government, I know the bureaucratic ways and I tend to live as far away as I can from them.” Explained Sherlock as he pulled off the A5 in Telford, “we can fill up with petrol and then see what food we can eat in the car. We need to get to London as soon as possible.” 

John agreed. Neither of them really knew what Moriarty was capable of doing, and after the setback he had with Moran Sherlock knew he was going to be out for blood. Sherlock pulled into the first motor service station he saw. “Molly, do you want any food?” Sherlock asked her as he turned the car off. 

“Hmm,” She mumbled rolling over in the back seat. 

“Food, you know you eat it.” 

“Oh hush up I know what food is, do you?” she asked him as she laid there on her back with her eyes closed. “Where are we?” 

“Telford,” John told her as he grabbed his wallet. “Coffee or tea?” 

“Tea, and then some water and as for food anything junk food related and with chocolate.” She explained as she laid there on her back with her eyes closed. “I intend to sleep a little longer before I have to drive again.” 

“Okay, I will leave the keys with you,” Sherlock said setting them on his seat. Shutting both doors Sherlock began to pump the petrol into the car as he and John headed into the service way station to get food. He walked over and grabbed two boxes of the chocolate biscuits as well as some lemon ones. John noticed that when Sherlock did eat it was sweets. 

“What kind of sandwich do you think Molly would want?” John asked Sherlock as they stood and looked at a case with premade sandwiches. “And you your body can’t run on coffee, nicotine patches and biscuits.” 

“It has for 31 years,” Sherlock pointed out as he walked over to John and stood behind him looking at his options. He was close enough he could hear John’s breathing but he wasn’t close enough to touch him. John didn’t seem to him as he bent over and looked at their options. “I will take the ham one.” Sherlock said. “Molly turkey.” John picked those up as well as a vegetarian one for himself. Heading to the counter Sherlock paid for the petrol as well as all their food they had in the arms. 

“Did your brother just pay for all of that?” John asked Sherlock as he saw the name on the card. Turning to Sherlock he smiled at him and headed on toward the door.

“Yes.” He laughed as they took the two bags and headed back to the car. “He won’t notice anyway.” 

“So what is this riff between you two?” 

“He sees the world one way and I see it the right way,” Sherlock said. “Simple as that.”

~~~

Three hours in and they hit traffic. Bad traffic, John was now in the back of the car sleeping. Molly was driving again as Sherlock sat in the passenger seat. His feet were curled up close to his chest as he looked out the window. Night had fallen and they were at a standstill. While most of the time Sherlock would have been yelling or on his phone. He sat there quite. 

Molly knew something was bothering him. But she had two things working against her Sherlock was a Holmes and according to Sherlock they show no emotion. And the second was that he was an English man, they didn’t tend to talk about feelings even when forced. Shifting in her seat Molly inched the car further. “Is there a back road we could take?” she asked. 

“No, it’s safer on the main one,” Sherlock said not tearing his gaze from the window. 

“Sherlock, what is bothering you?” she asked him as glanced over at his fidgeting hands. She knew he wanted a smoke, but he pulled out another nicotine patch. This would make it the fourth one that was on his arm. He took a deep breath in and let exhaled out. “Is it about John?” 

“Why would it be about John?” he snapped as he turned and looked at her. 

“Calm down there killer,” Molly told him, she looked in the rearview mirror. “He is asleep you can talk if you want.” 

“He isn’t full asleep, haven’t you noticed he sleeps for an hour and then is up for one.” Sherlock told her. 

“No,” Molly said. “I didn’t notice that Sherlock that is something that people don’t notice and if they do, they don’t say that they notice because it sounds creepy.” She paused, and then began again. “Is it though?” 

“I don’t know Molly,” Sherlock told her as is long legs slid down to the floor of the Jag. His voice was low, childlike in a way. “I’ve never… even with Seb this is different.” 

Nodding her head she waited. Molly knew that once he opened up it took him time to form the right words to express him without actually using real feeling. Silence fell over the car for a few moments before Sherlock began to speak again. 

“I just, when we were on the motorbike Molly,” Sherlock paused. “His arm was wrapped around me. He asked me if I trusted him.” 

“What did you say?” Molly asked Sherlock. 

Always and Forever Sherlock thought, he looked down at his feet where his pack lie. “Yes.” 

“Do you trust him? Right now in this moment do you trust him?” Molly asked as she saw Sherlock’s eyes wonder to the back where John was sleeping. He was sitting up straight, ready to fire when needed. 

“Yes.” 

~~~

Hour four: they pulled off the M6 they needed to fill up on petrol and Molly needed to get out and stretch her legs. Sherlock stayed with the Jag as he filled her up. John walked into the station with Molly. As John got himself a tea she could tell something was on his mind as well. 

Boys and their stupidity, she thought to herself as she stood next to John and made herself a cup. “Something on your mind Doctor?” she asked him as John put the plastic lid on the cup. 

“Um, just thinking,” he admitted to her, he looked like he wanted to walk away but he couldn’t. “Is Sherlock gay?” 

John took her by surprise coming out and being so blunt about his question. “No.” Molly admitted to him as she tossed her swizzle stick into the bin. 

“Is he straight?” 

“Eh, no,” Molly explained picking up her cup. 

John looked at her, “then what is he?” 

“Sherlock Holmes, the man who has been told he has no heart and has been hurt in ways no one could imagine,” she told him. “What about you John, you put on this ‘I’m not gay’ front. Why?” She began to make Sherlock his tea now. 

“My sister is a lesbian and people just assume that I am gay as well. I have nothing wrong with my sister and her lifestyle.” 

“So you assumed the same about Sherlock?” Molly asked stirring sugar into tea for Sherlock. 

John cleared his throat. “I don’t know any more Molly. I’ve never liked another man, never thought I would but”- John stopped. “I don’t know if I’m drawn and feeling this because of the danger and adventure that follow him, or if I’m drawn to the man.” John placed his hands on the counter and thought. Placing one of her hand on John’s Molly had to ask him. The same thing she asked Sherlock. 

“John, do you trust him?” John moved his hand form Molly’s and looked up, out the window in the dark John could see Sherlock; he was looking at something on his mobile while he waited for the petrol to fill up in the car. “Right now, standing there do you trust Sherlock with your life? With no threat of anyone or anything.” She asked as she followed his gaze up to Sherlock. 

John took a deep breath in. Standing there, he thought about what Molly asked him. “Yes.” 

Satisfied with John’s answer John and Molly walked over to the counter, paying for the tea and the petrol they made their way back out. Sherlock stood leaning against the car. “What’s wrong Sherlock?” John asked him as they walked over to him. Molly handed Sherlock his tea and Sherlock handed John his iPhone. On the screen was video of John and Molly in the store getting their tea and talking. “How the bloody fuck…” John asked as Molly glanced up at Sherlock. He looked worried. 

Taking the keys from Sherlock’s pocket Molly got back into the driver’s seat. She didn’t need a crazed man driving a fast sports car. She wasn’t that stupid. Sherlock got into the passenger’s seat and John sat in the back. Molly pulled out of the motorway service station and back onto the M6, it was moving now thankfully. 

John leaned forward, placing a hand on Sherlock’s right shoulder he said to him, “We are an hour out of London, we will be there soon.” Sherlock’s body was still tense, he heard John’s words but his mind knew that it wasn’t going to be as easy as the Army Doctor pictured it to be. John cleared his throat and told him. “We will get Moriarty.” Sherlock took a breath in as Molly decided to divert to a less traveled road. 

They were only driving for twenty minutes when John looked behind them, he wanted to think it was just another car that was going to London and taking the same route. But that idea was thrown out the window as they heard gunfire hitting the back of the car. 

“Oh great our bastard friend Moran is back,” Molly said, and then let out a scream as she heard glass shattering. John ducked as the rear window came shattering down from bullet. John brushed the pieces of glass off the seat, kneeling on the seat he held his gun and aimed for Moran. “Drive!” he yelled giving an order as Molly pressed her foot down on the gas pedal and the car went jerking forward. 

John had not fired a single shot yet, he needed to save the bullets that he had, and he wanted to wait till Moran was more vulnerable, which would be when he was changing guns, or loading more ammunition into the one that he had. A few bullet ricocheted off the car as Molly swerving the car. Sherlock’s body moved but John was still. Moran stopped shooting, and he veered off the side. 

 

They were in the middle of nowhere. Molly had a sinking feeling in her stomach as she drove and tried not to look around. Sherlock remained silent as he watched John. “Where is he?” Molly asked looking into the darkness. But he questions was answer for her as they felt a jerk. A car going at top speed his Sherlock’s side of the car. He let out a yell as his body was jerked forward. His head hitting the dashboard of the car. Molly let out a cry as the car began to rotate in the air. The windows of the car shattering around them. John, who was out of his seat belt, hit the roof of the car, his left shoulder being the one to take the most. Dear God please let me live John thought as his he grabbed onto the headrest of Molly’s seat as the car landed on its wheels in a ditch. 

“John,” Molly said her voice shaking. “He is hurt.” John looked up. From the faint light of the moon he saw that she was right. But there was no time. Moran would be getting out of his car. 

“Molly I need you to get out of the car, I need you to get the packs and get my knife,” John said as he crawled out the back window. 

“Where are you going?” 

“To teach this bastard a lesson,” John said as he slid off the boot of the Jag his feet touched the wet ground. He heard some moaning coming from the car that was still on the road. A few bullets were fired but Moran had hit his head and he wasn’t able to see John properly. John’s legs were a little weak as he climbed out of the ditch. 

John fired a shot, hearing a yell he knew that he had shot him in the arm. Once he reached the road again he saw Moran there on the ground, his gun had fallen and he was bleeding out. “I took an oath when I was a doctor to save people,” John told him as he spat out the blood that was in his mouth. “But I don’t keep that oath to a bloody sod,” John said as he raised his right hand and shot Moran between the eyes. 

He let out a breath of air, as his head fell back and blood began to pool in his mouth and run down his neck. “John!” Molly yelled. John left Moran there. Sherlock needed his attention now. Wincing at the pain in his shoulder John tried to make it back down to the car, slipping he slid on the wet grass. “The door is stuck,” Molly said as tears ran down her face. 

John sat his gun down and looked at her. “I need you to be brave Molly Hopper okay,” he said looking at her. He walked over to where their packs laid and picked up his knife. Crawling back into the car John began to cut the seatbelt that had Sherlock locked in so tight. Sherlock’s unconscious body slumped forward as the seatbelt was cut. John caught him so he didn’t hit the dashboard again. “Sherlock,” John said to him as he tried to see if he could wake up. “I’ve got you,” he said as Sherlock’s head fell back. 

“Addgfodf” he mumbled as John sat him back. He didn’t want to drag him over the broken glass, so the only option was to get the door unstuck. 

John sat on the armrest that was in the middle of the car as he took his left leg and kicked the door a few time. With one final kick it fell off onto the ground. Molly stood there and watched as John got out the car and ran over to Sherlock’s side. His head was facing him, blood was running down between his eyes as he tried to open them and smile at John. Leaning down he vomited up the ham sandwich John had forced him to eat. John stopped over the vomit as he wrapped Sherlock’s arms around his neck. He didn’t know how much damage had been done to his leg so he twisted his body so he slid him out on his back and laid in in the wet grass. 

Molly handed John his medical pack as she held a torch for him to be able to see. “What can I do?” she asked as John looked up and saw that she had a cut above her left eyebrow. “Please John tell me what I can do.” 

“We need a car,” John said as he dug through his medical bag. He needed to find something for the pain for Sherlock. “We need- call Mycroft.” 

“No,” Sherlock managed to say as John looked down at him. His eyes were closed but he was talking. “I don’t want him…” 

“Sherlock we need to get out of here and we need Moran to disappear who else do you think we can call without being dragged away to jail?” John asked him as he pulled out some morphine. 

“He can’t have that,” Molly said grabbing the bottle from John’s hands. “He can have something else but he can’t have this.” John looked at her; her face grew serious and sullen. John nodded and began to look for something else to kill the pain. 

“John, why are there four of you?” Sherlock asked opening his eyes. 

“There is only one of me, I promise you,” John said as he looked at Sherlock’s eyes. They weren’t able to follow the light of his torch. He had a concussion. “What else hurts?” he asked Sherlock. “Does it hurt to breath?” he asked. “Take a deep breath for me.” 

Sherlock did as John asked. “No,” he said slurring a little. John then pressed on each rib to see if Sherlock had any pain. None. “My leg hurts,” he said as he turned his head towards Molly. “What did my arse of a brother want?” Sherlock asked as, his ‘s’ having a slight lisp to them. 

“He is sending a car, and men to clean up the mess.” 

“Is the scabbard okay?” Sherlock asked as he winced trying to get up. John placed his hand on his chest and laid him back down. Knowing if he stood up he would pass out. Molly wanted to punch him. All he cared about was the bloody King Arthur legend. He was a piece of work. Sherlock turned back to John. “I’m tired.” 

“No,” John said as he put his hands on the side of Sherlock’s face and looked at him. “Listen to me, you are the great Sherlock Holmes and you are too good for sleep. You told me so when we were at Cross Key’s.” 

“But I wants to John,” Sherlock pleaded with him. But John wasn’t going to let him. 

John looked up at Molly, “when we get to the car I need you just to get to London and get to the first A&E we can find, I can try and patch him up in the back of the car but he needs his leg looked at,” John said as he heard two cars approach. He grabbed his gun and waited. 

Two men, dressed in suits with torches looked over the ridge. “We have a car for Mr. Holmes, Ms. Hopper and a Doctor Watson,” they called out. Molly put on her pack, grabbed the case the scabbard was in as well as took John’s and Sherlock’s pack. She began to climb the light hill to the top of the road. 

“Okay, do you trust me?” John asked Sherlock as he opened his eye and smiled at him. “Sherlock can you hear me?” 

“Always…” Sherlock said slurring his ‘s’ again. 

“And forever good,” John said. He pulled Sherlock so he was sitting up, he then knelt down between Sherlock’s legs, pulling his arms and upper body over his back John slid Sherlock up so he could carry him up the hill and keep pressure off his leg. 

“Look Doctor John,” Sherlock laughed. “What is your middle name John?” he asked. 

“Hamish,” John told him boy did Sherlock had a concussion. 

“Look Molly,” he sang out as John got to the main road. “John Hamish Watson is carrying me on his back!” 

“Head trauma causes odd behavior while most people would get mean and pissy,” John told Molly as he sat him down in the back of the car. “Sherlock gets the giggles.” John got into the back of the car and looked at Sherlock’s head. “What are you doing John Hamish Watson?” he asked. “I’m going to be sick,” Sherlock said as he turned and vomited out of the car. 

Molly grabbed a bag and handed it to Sherlock. She didn’t need him getting sick in one of Mycroft’s cars. Putting the keys’ into the ignition she turned the car on, put it into drive and headed toward London. “Is there a specific A&E?” 

“No,” John said as he pulled out some the needle to fix up Sherlock’s head. “Okay Sherlock I need you to talk to me, I don’t have any pain medication for you okay. So just talk to me and it will make this go a lot smoother.” 

“Talk about what John?” Sherlock asked him as John parted the hair where he needed to stitch. 

“Tell me about, I don’t know how did you and Molly meet at Uni?” John asked as he put the needle into his head and pulled it through. Sherlock tried not to move but it hurt. “Were you in the same class?” 

“No,” Sherlock said as he grabbed John’s knee and watched as his Jumper rose as he moved his arms. “I was in an advanced Chemistry class and she was my lab partner,” Sherlock explained. “Jesus… John is there something ringing?” 

“You will be okay,” he promised Sherlock as he put the needle into his head again. “How is your leg, do you still have feeling?” 

“I can… I can move my toes,” he said looking at John. “My head is starting to really hurt John.” John cut the threat as he finished up stitch up Sherlock’s head. “John why am I so tired?” 

“Why must you keep saying my name?” John asked him as Molly pulled into the London City limits. 

“Because it’s a funny name,” Sherlock admitted to him. “Jawn.” He said as his eyes closed. 

“Sherlock,” John said as he looked at him. Molly parked the car, turning it off she got out to help John carry Sherlock in. John grabbed his pack, while Molly had the scabbard and her pack as well. Checking Sherlock’s pocket his journal was gone. 

“I have it,” John told her as he pulled it out of his pocket. “Can’t be too careful with that.” Sherlock’s body was heavy; he moaned and then gave a mumble as Molly helped him onto John’s back. They headed into the building. 

“We need to see a Doctor right now,” John said to the nurse at the desk. “We can’t wait this man has been in a horrible accident and he needs an x-ray of his head as well as leg to see if there is any swelling.” Another nurse came with a wheelchair, which John sat him in. 

“Doctor Sawyer you are needed at the nurses’ desk,” the nurse called out over the PA system. “You do know that only doctors can authorize x-rays?” 

John pulled out his wallet and showed her his military I.D. “I am a doctor.”


	9. Calm Before The Storm

A few hours later John and Molly found themselves in a hospital bed while Sherlock came out of a drug induced sleep. Luckily there hadn’t been any broken bones, just some major bruising and a slight concussion. 

Molly had fallen asleep a while ago and John kept watch over Sherlock, glancing over at the door every now and then to make sure that none of Moriarty’s men had followed them. He looked back at Sherlock and glanced back towards the television he had on mute.

While the crash and Moran’s death had been reported, no one had yet made the connection between the dead man, car crash, and Sherlock’s injuries. 

“As soon as he wakes up we’re gonna need to run a few more tests before he can go ok?” The voice startled John out of his surveillance and he barely restrained his arm for reaching for his hidden gun. 

Dr. Sawyer walked in and smiled. “Sorry. Did I startle you?”

John grinned. “A bit. It’s been quite a day.”

“Your boyfriend’s injuries—“

“Oh he’s not my boyfriend.” John blushed slightly though. He wasn’t sure quite what to call Sherlock. He shook his head. “Thank you Dr. Sawyer.”

“You’re welcome, but it was thanks to your quick thinking and diagnosis that saved him from more serious injuries. How did you know about the concussion?”

“I’m a doctor. I’m not exactly practicing right now…” John trailed off. “I recently returned from overseas.”

“A doctor without Borders?”

“Not exactly. Iraq.”

“Oh…you’re a soldier?”

“Captain John Watson. And I’m not anymore. Honorable discharge.”

“Oh.” She glanced at her notepad and quickly wrote something down. She glanced back over at Sherlock. “Just call one of the nurses when he wakes and we’ll get those tests out of the way so you can go.”

“Thanks again, Dr. Sawyer.”

“Please, call me Sarah.” She handed John a slip of paper. “Here’s my number if you need anything else. Or if you just wanna call and get coffee...”

“Oh… oh yes of course.” John blushed as he took the paper and smiled back at Sarah. She grinned and left the room, leaving the door open just a little in case they needed to call for a nurse. 

“You’re not really gonna call her are you?” John again started when Molly’s voice came up the couch. Where he had assumed she had been sleeping this entire time.

“I don’t know… Molly, what if this…thing…between Sherlock and I is just adrenaline fueled? What happens if afterwards we just don’t work together anymore? I need to know that normalcy is still there.” John stopped as he placed his elbows on his knees and his hands on the temples of his head. “As long as I get out of this without going to jail.”

Molly shook her head as she sat up on the couch and looked over at John. “John. I’ve never met anyone who Sherlock warmed up to right away, adrenaline fueled or not. You and he together is amazing to watch.”

“But what if-” John was cut off when a groan was heard by the bed.

“Jawn?” Sherlock groaned his words slurred as he thrashed about and tried to open his eyes. 

John quickly got up from his chair and walked to the side of Sherlock’s hospital bed. “Sherlock.”

“Jawn….” Sherlock seemed to just have been talking in his sleep. John shook his head affectionately and took Sherlock’s hand. Holding it tight so he knew that he was there. 

“I’m here Sherlock.” He said his voice calm and caring. John looked over at Molly. She was giving a slightly evil grin and John momentarily wondered if Sherlock’s craziness was catching. “Shut up.” John muttered and raised a hand to stroke Sherlock’s hair off his forehead.

A short time later Sherlock completely regained consciousness and was already barking out orders to the nursing staff trying to take blood for tests. Neither he nor John broke the contact created with their hands. Molly just smiled. 

Sarah had come back in to check on Sherlock and to run a few more test now that he was awake. Molly getting the idea, she left the two boys alone for some time. Using the excuse that she needed coffee as a way to leave. John had moved his chair over to the side of Sherlock’s bed and was sitting there when another man with gray hair stepped into the room. “Oh Sherlock. What have you done now?”

Sherlock sighed as he rolled his eyes. “Evening, Lestrade.”

Lestrade glanced at Molly as she walked back into the room with coffee in both her hands. “I thought you were through being his getaway driver?”

Molly shrugged. “He’s very convincing.” She handed one to John who took it gratefully. 

Lestrade’s attention then turned to John. “Who are you?”

“My doctor.” Sherlock answered quickly before John was able to open his mouth. 

“And what’s he doing here?”

This time John opened up his mouth and spoke before Sherlock could. “I volunteered.”

“Well…un volunteer yourself.” Lestrade shook his head. “Sherlock’s been known for getting himself into deep trouble, and Sherlock? I don’t think you can get out of this one. We traced the car that the victim ran into to your credit card. The victim…”

“I-”

“Don’t say anything. I still have deniable plausibility.” Lestrade turned back to Sherlock. “The victim was identified as Sebastian Moran. We managed to trace his calls back to a Jim Moriarty, another known associate of yours. But anything else on him was quickly erased from our system.”

“Moriarty tried to kill us.” Molly interjected.

“Look…Lestrade?” John said trying to feel out the situation and not have Sherlock get all antsy and have his blood pressure rise anymore. 

“Detective Inspector Lestrade.” He told John as he let go of Sherlock’s hand and stood up.

“Can we step outside for a moment? Sherlock still needs his rest.” They headed across the room and toward the door as they heard Sherlock. 

“I don’t need rest…” Sherlock called out after them. 

“Yeah you do.” John replied as he and Lestrade left the room. Molly followed quickly behind. 

“I don’t know how you got into this, but get yourself out of it fast. Sherlock’s not known for much outside of following this theory of the King Arthur treasure.” Lestrade warned John

“I know. I’ve been following him for a while.” Admitted John

“Let me guess…since the break in at the antiquities museum.” 

“Yeah…how did?”

“Mycroft.” Lestrade explained as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Ah,” John said with a nod of his head. 

“How do you think I found Sherlock here, but I didn’t have a large squadron with me to arrest Sherlock?”

“Ohh… so not exactly just a small position in the British government?” he asked as Molly tried not to laugh that John believed that lie.

Lestrade smiled, “Sherlock would say he is the British government.”

John shook his head. “Look, can you give us just 24 hours?”

“For what?”

“I think Sherlock knows where the treasure is but hasn’t said anything yet.” John took a deep breath. “We’ll get Moriarty for you. Dead or Alive.” 

Lestrade stared hard at John. “Preferably alive, but I never liked that creep.” He motioned back to Sherlock’s room. “Keep him safe. Sherlock’s a great man. But maybe with your influence, he could be a good one.”

“He already is.” John replied.

John went back into the room after seeing Lestrade to the elevator with the mission to stall his team from pursuing the case to Sherlock until they could get Moriarty.

Sherlock’s bed was littered with confetti of paper. It wasn’t until John noticed the numbers on some of the pieces that he recognized what it was. He reached into his pocket and sure enough Sarah’s number was gone.

“You weren’t just groaning in your sleep were you?”

Sherlock just shrugged. “You don’t need it.”

“Sherlock she was a nice woman, coffee would have been fine.” John leaned over the bed to try to collect the scraps to try to piece back together.

“No John.” Sherlock grabbed his wrist to stop him. “I mean that the only one you’ll have coffee with me. Dinner too…I’m not sure what the social niceties are but I’m sure research will inform me. I would also need to research what is the appropriate number if dates is necessary before shagging is appropriate afterwards.”

John blushed and turned to make sure they were still alone. “Sherlock…are you asking me out on a date?”

“After this is over yes. I know this Italian restaurant. The owner owes me a favor.” 

John shook his head and grabbed Sherlock’s hand again. “Yes.” He leaned closer and whispered in Sherlock’s ear. “And I think it’s perfectly fine to shag after the first date, particularly if it was a good one and I know the person really, really well.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Good is just average. Our date will be extraordinary.”

John grinned. “I can’t wait.”

Molly returned to see smiles on both John and Sherlock’s faces. Not sure what she missed she let it be “You do know where we have to go right?” She asked taking a seat on the couch. 

“Of Course. Colchester.”

“Colchester?”

~~~

As soon as they started planning they ran into a major problem when a new doctor came in.

Sherlock couldn’t leave the hospital. Apparently the first drug test had been wrong and now they wanted to keep Sherlock overnight. They were willing to call security to make sure he stayed and wasn’t a danger to society. The new doctor left and Molly and John were speechless.

“But the doctors said—“

“Those were different doctors; these just now aren’t exactly looking out for society’s safety. Surely you noticed John.”

John nodded. “He’s not a doctor, or if he was, he had rudimentary training at best.”

“So a fake doctor.” Molly asked filling in the gaps of John and Sherlock’s conversation for her own benefit.

“Real enough to fool the real nurses and security personnel. But more likely someone working for Moriarty.” Sherlock sighed. “Well, there’s nothing for it then. We’ll have to break out.”

“WHAT?! Sherlock I’m not breaking you out of the hospital. What if you’re really injured and something worse happens.” John protested.

“Then it’s a good thing my boyfriend is a doctor.”

John blushed and leaned in, kissing Sherlock gently on the cheek. “Very well. But I’m keeping both eyes on you. What’s the plan?”

“Well first, Molly needs to get a getaway car. And Molly?” Sherlock called as Molly was leaving the room. “I don’t care if you have to call Mycroft to do it.”

Molly stopped in her tracks. “Moriarty’s really got you scared. Doesn’t he?”

Sherlock grasped John’s hand and squeezed. “I fear that our old friend from college is not what he used to be. And I fear what he will become if left unchecked. Go.”

Molly nodded and headed out to call Mycroft. 

Sherlock turned to John. “Now… I need you to help me get dressed.”

Changing Sherlock out of the horrible green hospital gown and into the clothes he arrived in was no easy feat with half of Sherlock’s leg bandaged. But they manage. 

John took another look at Sherlock’s clipboard to double check that he really was in the clear for near death experiences once more. He then grabbed a wheel chair for Sherlock and they began to walk around the perimeter of the hospital, getting closer and closer to the exits. Sherlock looked like he was dazed but he was really watching the security personnel and nurses closely. When his phone buzzed, signifying that Molly was outside, reached up and tapped John’s hand. 

John took the hint and ran towards the exit, wheelchair in hand. The automatic doors opened and they took off down the street.

Molly opened up the van door and they quickly climbed in and sped off. 

They were headed towards Colchester.


	10. Truth Revealed

Molly drove carefully, as instructed by John. Sherlock’s leg needed to heal properly but they needed to end this. So once they got rid of Jim, John was going to make sure that he got that proper time to heal. John sat in the back of the van with Sherlock. He had gotten him set up against the wall and braced his leg. The man was an idiot and he would try and make it out to be that everything was okay and he was fine. But John knew better. 

Unfortunately the van that Molly was able to get a hold of wasn’t a normal transit van; it looked more of a moving van. John normally wouldn’t complain but with Sherlock injured he wished there was a proper seat for Sherlock. John watched to make sure that Sherlock didn’t get sick on the drive, or pass out and die. He had a date he wanted to go on once all this was over with. 

Sherlock sat there in a relatively quiet state. He was dozing in and out of sleep, from the medication that had given him no doubt but they hadn’t had a proper nights rest in days, and in the back of a moving van wasn’t proper but they took what they could get. But Sherlock was more than quite, after spending so much time with him John could tell the difference between his faces when he was thinking and quiet and when he was bored and quiet. Right now he was thinking and quiet. 

John’s mind was still whirling thinking that he just broke out of a hospital in London. John shook his head, he had no idea why he was worried about that when he had stolen museum property, jumped off a moving train, shot at a man from the back of a motorbike, killed a man in cold blood. Breaking Sherlock out of the hospital was minor on that list. 

Molly was quite as she drove. She had no idea what was going to happen, but even if they didn’t find the scabbard, and the legend and everything she knew that Sherlock was happy. He might brood for a few weeks but some new adventure would catch his eye and he would be off with no doubt both her and John in toe. She followed the GPS directions on her mobile; she wanted this to end as much as John and Sherlock did. If not more. 

Sherlock closed his eyes; John knew he was trying to fight the pain. He had made that same face many times as he sat in the hospital stubborn and refusing to admit he had an injured shoulder. John pressed his lips together and took a deep breath as he opened his mouth to speak. Something that Sherlock had said back when they were hospital breaking. “Sherlock, back there…” he trailed off as Molly shut the little glass window to give the boys some privacy as they talked. She would get the full story from Sherlock after. “Back there you um, you called me your boyfriend.” 

Sherlock nodded his head slowly. His eyes still closed. John had no idea if he was awake or not. But he kept on talking. “Sherlock have you ever had anyone? A girlfriend or a boyfriend?” John asked raising an eyebrow at him. 

Opening his eyes he smiled slightly at him, “Well you are, aren’t you?” Sherlock asked him as they went over a bump Sherlock winced in pain as he put his hand on his leg. “Jesus….” He hissed. His leg hurt a lot more than he had had imagined it. 

John didn’t answer his question as he grabbed his pack and pulled out his first aid. “I wish I had something to give you for the pain,” John told him. “If the morphine makes you sick I have something that can counter act the morphine.” He explained to Sherlock as he pulled out his first aid kit. 

“No,” Sherlock told him as he put a pale thin hand on John’s tan one. “I can’t have morphine. I’m…” Sherlock stopped and looked at John in his eyes. This was something he couldn’t run form or hide from John anymore. “Recovering addicts can’t have morphine.” 

John froze as his gaze as he looked into Sherlock’s blue, green eyes. “No,” he said his voice faint and in disbelief on what his ears just heard. 

This man had one of the greatest minds of the 21st century and he was an- no he was an addict. Did Sherlock really get that bored with life that he turned to drugs? John then thought what would keep him from going there again. He was nothing special. If anything he was extra boring and ordinary. And injured ex-army doctor. Nothing special there. 

Sherlock sat there in the silence as he finally spoke, “I’ve been clean for 10 years,” Sherlock looked down at the floor. Regretting that he had told John anything. “I can understand if you well… I now that some people don’t want to be with addicts for if they relapse they don’t want to deal with it.” 

John looked down at his shoes and began to pick the dry mud off of them. “Have you been tested?” he asked him.

Nodding not looking at his eyes. “Yes I was tested before I went on detox and I was tested after. Molly has the results and Mycroft was there as well. I am 100 perfect clean John. I promise you.” He assured him. 

“Why?” John asked his voice was faint and almost like a child. Sherlock was ready for John to yell at him for his idiotic actions. But this was more painful. John’s eyes looked sad, heartbroken, hurt. Sherlock looked back down at the ground. He never realized that this could hurt someone as much as it seemed to be hurting John. Sherlock felt sick with guilt as he tried not to vomit. John saw his face go white. He grabbed a bag as he held it up to his face as the contents of his stomach came up. John placed a hand on the small of Sherlock’s back. His hand felt strong, and brave. All things at this moment he did not feel. Sherlock realized that yelling he could take, but letting John down- that he couldn’t take. 

“It’s a long story.” He told John weekly as he laid his head on the wall of the van and closed his eyes. He needed to settle his stomach. But everything inside of him was turning and wanting to get out. He hadn’t felt this sick since he went through detox. 

“We have time,” John said. “I want to hear it. All of it. Don’t hold anything back.” 

Sherlock nodded. “It was my first year at Uni,” Sherlock told him with a deep breath. “I met Molly. She was nice; she didn’t think I was a freak. Or at least she never verbal expressed that she thought I was. We became friends fairly quickly. She was infatuated with me and thought if we were friends than we could be more. I just needed someone who would follow me when I searched for this scabbard. To remember to do the little things. Like rent cars.” 

“So you needed a lackey?” John asked him, he didn’t want to just be Sherlock’s lackey. 

“Yes, but I didn’t want to be so crude about it. I was faking the friendship till I realized she wasn’t that bad.” 

John laughed, “That’s kind of you.” 

Sherlock grinned briefly before sobering up. “There was a senior. His name was Sebastian Wilkes. He was going into banking or something mundane and stupid like that. But we had a class together, and he was interesting and I was bored. I never had done anything.” Sherlock told him. He took a deep breath and continued. “I felt that giving into your bodily needs, such as feelings was a waste of time and took up too much space when you could fill that with more important things.” 

John nodded. So Sherlock wasn’t good with emotions, and he was inexperienced. John was a tad inexperienced in this area as well.

“I also don’t care for people touching me.” Sherlock added but John didn’t move his hand from his back. 

“I noticed in the hospital,” John pointed out to him as he licked his lips. He didn’t know if he should remove his hand but Sherlock said nothing. He liked the small rubbing was soothing to keep his mind off of his upset stomach. 

“He started to talk to me. I was flattered for he talked about how brilliant I was and how I should come to a party he was having. Molly warned me against it that he was a twat. But she wasn’t going to control me for she knew I would do whatever I wanted to do.” 

“Shocker,” John interjected. Sherlock looked up at him, his eyes seemed to be almost blood shot, and his face was pale and sweaty from sitting in the back of a van with no air circulation. “Sorry.” John said as he looked down at the ground. 

“I wanted to show her that I was superior and that I could go and be fine. I went. Safe to say I was not fine.” 

“Sherlock…” John said to him. 

Sherlock remembered that night more than he wanted to. “He got me drunk; and he drugged my drink, I think. Everything was fuzzy after a while. I thought I had better control of my senses and body but for the second time in my life, my body failed me.” he explained to him. Sherlock closed his eyes as he spared John the details. John placed a hand on Sherlock’s knee He wasn’t going to push him. 

After a few moments Sherlock took a deep breath and continued with his story. “I was so ashamed that it happened. I didn’t leave my flat for a week.” He paused as he tried not to think about what happened. He had done all that he could to delete those memories but the scares were still there from that night. “When I finally did I run into Wilkes on the street. He came to say that he was sorry and he thought that was what I wanted. I didn’t know what I wanted, I was stupid and naive. Wilkes informed me that he wanted to have a relationship with me. Nonexclusive for he didn’t want to bring shame to his family. They were quite influential. I on the other had didn’t care if I dragged my family’s name through the mud. Which I also was able to managed to do,” Sherlock informed him. 

John nodded his head. “So, you and he were together,” John didn’t know why he cared so much. He had been with plenty of women before he was going to be with Sherlock so why did it shock him that Sherlock had been with another man. 

“I didn’t know what it was like to be in a healthy relationship, I also didn’t know what it was like to be in an unhealthy one. All I knew was I was bored and needed something to occupy my time. Molly knew. She warned me that it was a bad idea, and that I was going to get hurt. But I told her I had it under control and not to worry. She did. I was surprised she didn’t leave. I still am surprised she didn’t leave me now that she realized that I didn’t have any interest in women.” Sherlock chuckled. “I was a dick towards her those few years.”

“When did you know it was all a lie?” John asked him as he pulled his legs up to his chest. 

“I found out it was a joke with his buddies. They wanted to see how long Wilkes could play gay until I guessed that he wasn’t. I then found out he had a girlfriend and she was in New York studying.” 

“How long did it take you to find out,” John asked him. 

“Two and a half months.” 

John said nothing. 

“I didn’t know how to, well, deal with my emotions. I didn’t want to deal with them. I thought I had deleted all of them when I turned seven but I hadn’t. So when I was bored, and angry and hurt and confused, I decided to try cocaine. I told myself it would be a onetime thing to see what it felt like. I thought I had enough self-control to not become an addict.” Sherlock looked at John. He was looking back at him; his lips pressed together waiting for the worst to come. Sherlock felt his stomach flop; he was going to be sick again. John rubbed his back, as Sherlock talked. “It took Molly a year to find out; I was 19 at the time. She walked in on me when I was coming down from a high and I still had the needle in my hand. She tried all she could do to help me, but I would use behind her back. I needed that fix.” 

John nodded. Sherlock’s mind was like a bullet train racing with information overload. As he explained to him how it cleared his mind John realized it wasn’t just an excuse it was the honest truth. He needed to clear his head and that was the way to do it. John wanted to understand but his mind wasn’t as full of all the information as Sherlock’s was. 

“When I realized- well when Molly realized that she couldn’t handle me on her own,” Sherlock’s voice grew faint and almost distant. He turned his head. He didn’t want to see John’s face. He felt a warm hand take hold of his. Glancing over he saw John had his fingers intertwined with his. “I was bored and needed to clear my head so I shot up. I forgot that Molly was coming over. As I was coming down I felt that I could shoot up one more time, and nothing terribly bad would happen. So I did.” 

John held tight to his hand. 

“I woke up in a hospital. Molly was by my side.” Sherlock took John’s hand. “I um, I still don’t know why she stayed but she did.”

“She knew you needed someone.” John said to him his voice horse. “She knew that she could help save you.”

Sherlock had a faint smile spread across his face and then it fell as he walked about the rest of what happened. “My brother and his men cleaned out my flat, taking out every floor board, every hidden place in a drawer. Everywhere to get rid of all the drugs. He came to see me, telling me I could either sober up in a hospital and then go to rehab or I could go back to my new flat where I stay there and Molly help me while I sober up and then I go into rehab. I chose the latter one. Once I gained strength back I checked myself in. Molly came to visit me every day. I first thought Mycroft was paying her, but once day she came with a clue about where the scabbard was.”

Sherlock took a few deep breaths waiting for John to say something. Anything, even yell would be better than the silence that they were sitting in. “What about Jim?” he asked him. 

“Jim wa- Jim is nothing. He was someone I felt I could control like Wilkes controlled me. Not in the sexual way but in the mental way.” 

“Oh,” John said as he nodded his head. He seemed a bit upset but he never let go of Sherlock’s hand that was intertwined with his. 

Sherlock knew what John was thinking, “No John, I never want to control you. I would never control you. I don’t want to. It would feel wrong.” Sherlock stammered as words began to fail him. This had never happened to him before. 

John cleared his throat. “Have you ever had a slip up? Where you were bored and went out and purchased more?” he asked him. 

Sherlock nodded his head, ashamed to be admitting this to him. “I was a year and a half sober. We had hit a dead end with the case and I was getting annoyed. So I thought a little clearing of my head was needed.” John looked at Sherlock. He wasn’t angry he just wanted to know. “My brother had followed me. He not only arrested the dealer and everyone there but I had to go and face Molly. You never want to see Molly fully upset. It’s unpleasant to be on the receiving end of an upset Molly tirade.” 

“I won’t stand for it,” John told him firmly. “You are too brilliant to be stupid. The world needs your mind Sherlock Holmes. I need you,” John said as he turned his head and looked at him, John placed a hand on the side of Sherlock’s face. “I need you,” he said as his deep blue gray eyes looked into those bright blue, or were they green eyes of Sherlock. Sherlock pressed his forehead against John’s. His brown curly hair pressed up the shorn hair of John Watson. John placed his other hand on the side of Sherlock’s face he tilted his head and brought his lips close to those of Sherlock’s. John moved his body so it was facing Sherlock. Sherlock placed his hands on John’s waits as their lips met. 

As they touched Sherlock felt a sensation come over him. John tasted of old coffee from the hospital. He smelt of plain soap he used to wash. His shampoo, he bought the cheap stuff he didn’t waste money on things like that. His face was smooth as Sherlock’s hands moved up to John’s face. 

John could taste the faint of tobacco on his breath. His lips were smooth and felt so great on his. John could have stayed there kissing him for hours. John moved his hands and ran them through Sherlock’s brown curls on the top of his head. 

As he pulled away John wiped his mouth, his lip cracked and began to bleeding. “Everyone has baggage Sherlock; I have my fare share from the war. But for this to happen we can’t keep secrets. Our past is our past and we can only move on. We need complete honesty and transparency no matter how hard it can get.” John said to him. He placed a hand on the side of his face. “But I can promise you that I will never treat you the way Wilkes did. You are brilliant and clever and stupid and stubborn and loud but you are not someone who should be used or walked on.” 

“Thank you, John,” Sherlock said smiling at him. 

John looked at him. “I’m serious Sherlock. Honesty from here on out.” Sherlock nodded and then leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. 

Molly looked in the rearview mirror as she opened up the glass and yelled. “Oi!” she hollered at him. “Stop the snogging.” John looked up and blushed a tad as Sherlock just rolled his eyes at her. “So what is the plan Sherlock?” 

“When we get to the hotel Sherlock needs to rest,” John told Molly. He could feel Sherlock’s eyes narrowing in on him. “We snuck you out of a hospital, I don’t care what you say you need rest,” John turned and pressed his forehead against Sherlock’s and looked at him. “Doctors’ orders.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes but he eventually agreed. “We can’t go where we need to in the dark anyways.” 

“You are just saying that because someone finally put you into your place,” chuckled Molly as she turned the radio on.

Sherlock covered his ears and looked at her. “Molly what is this rubbish you are listening to?” he asked her. John shook his head the man liked to be dramatic. 

“Sorry Mr. ‘I play the violin so I’m so much far removed from that of the common folk’ but this is Katy Perry, she is an American singer and very good.” Molly said as she turned up the song a little. 

John turned his head and looked at Sherlock amazed. “You… you play the violin?” he asked amazed.

Sherlock didn’t know how to answer that. “Yes, I um… learned when I was five and I never stopped practicing it helps when I’m stressed and when I’m thinking I play and compose.” John’s eyebrow rose and he smiled. “We can discuss that later.” John said nothing as they sat as the song played up at the front of the van. 

My heart stops when you look at me. Just one touch now baby I believe, this is real so take a chance… I finally found you my missing puzzle piece. I’m complete. 

John looked as Molly smiled at John. “Real subtle….” He said as Sherlock laid his head on John’s lap. He stretched his long pale body out in the back of the van.

“Subtle about what?” Sherlock asked his eyes looking at John. 

John chuckled as he ran his hands through his hair. “Nothing,” he said as Sherlock closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. Molly looked back and saw that John had fallen asleep his head tilted back against the wall, his mouth open a little as he slept. Sherlock on his back fast asleep. 

“Oh they are too much,” she chuckled to herself as she pulled off the main highway. When they got to Colchester John woke up to see Sherlock packing up his pack. John yawned and stretched as Sherlock smiled and looked at him. 

“We are almost there. I googled and found there was an Inn close by we can get a room there,” Sherlock explained to him as Molly pulled up to the Inn. Parking the car, she got out of the car and opened the door. John put Sherlock’s arm around his shoulder and helped him out of the van. He leaned up against the outside as John grabbed his pack as well as the scabbard. “I can walk John…” 

“I know,” John said as he put Sherlock’s arm around his shoulder and walked with him into the Inn. John got themselves a room. Molly helped John get Sherlock up to their room. They set him on the bed. 

“I’m going to go and grab my bag and Sherlock’s bag,” Molly said to them as she grabbed her mobile and slipped it into the pocket of her windbreaker. “I don’t want to come up and you two be all unclothed and having a good shag.” 

“Oh…” John said as he felt his face turn red. 

“I’ll try,” Sherlock told her as Molly rolled her eyes and headed on out of the room shutting the door behind her. “Do I really need to be bed ridden? I’m not a child.”

“We can plan what our strategy is going to be tomorrow so you can stay in bed. I can get some room service if you want?” John told him as he took a seat on the chair in the room. 

“You can, I’m not going to eat,” Sherlock told him. He turned and saw John’s determined face. “Or…. I will eat,” he said as John nodded his head. 

Molly grabbed the keys out of her pocket as she walked over the gravel parking lot toward the van when she felt something old against the back of her neck. “Scream and I will shoot.” Came a voice. Once that Molly heard a voice from behind her. “I want you to walk over to my car and get in.” 

Molly said nothing as she listened to what Jim told her. She walked up to the black sports car and got in. She wasn’t going to play around with him. Molly sat in the front seat as Jim got into the driver’s seat. “Now Molly,” he said as he kept the gun on his lap. “I’m glad you decided to make this easy for me. You are pretty… I didn’t want to have to kill you,” he laughed as he turned on the car and headed away. 

“You are stupid,” Molly told him as Jim drove. 

“If you want to threaten me with Sherlock I know for a fact the man can’t walk because he was injured the other night in a horrible car accident.” 

“Yes and I hope you know John killed the son of a bitch who hit our car,” Molly said to him. Jim’s face went cold as he turned and looked at her. “Sorry your little pet, Sebastian Moran, is dead.” Jim grabbed the steering wheel of the car, his knuckled turning white as he pressed his foot on the gas and drove. Molly held on. She knew that would get him, he just hopped he didn’t drive off the side of a mountain because Moran was dead. 

They soon came to an old house. Molly rolled her eyes. She felt that she was in a stupid budget horror film. The car pulled up next to the house and she got out as Moriarty lead her into the house, the gun pressed against her back. “Where is the scabbard?” 

“Not with me,” she said as he shoved her into the house. It was small; the place had a worn out leather sofa and a few chairs. Jim pointed to the couch and Molly took a seat. “What do you want me to do now?” 

“Sit down and shut up.” He said his brown eyes empty and more vacant. She did as she said as another one of his henchmen came out form what looked like the kitchen. A ten year old could beat this man up. Jim said something to him as he handed over the gun and headed on his way. “Oh, and watch her she has been hanging out with Holmes long enough she might have learned a thing or two. So she might not be as stupid as she seems.” 

Molly rolled her eyes as she pulled her hair up into a bun. “You are still an idiot,” Molly said with a roll of her eyes. 

“No talking,” the boy said as he sat across from Molly. 

“I’m thirsty. You don’t want me to die from dehydration do you?” she asked him. The boy got up and headed into the kitchen. As he did Molly grabbed her mobile from her pocket. For all of Jim’s supposed intellect, he didn’t think to tell his goons to check her pockets…unless he wants her to contact Sherlock? Molly shook her head. Either way, Sherlock needed to be warned that Jim was on his way.

Jim has me. I’m safe. He is coming for you and Sherlock. Call Mycroft & Lestrade-Molly

She slipped her mobile back into her jacket as the man walked back into the living room. He handed her a glass of water. Molly smiled as she set the water on the coffee table and sat back into the couch. “I’m not thirsty right now.” 

~~~

John looked at Sherlock’s phone when it buzzed and quickly glanced at the message from Molly. He nearly dropped the phone and his entire body froze. “Sherlock we need to get out of here,” John told him as he put his mobile into his pocket and stood up. “Jim got Molly-” he said and then stopped as he saw Sherlock standing up and grabbing the scabbard. 

“Let’s finish this,” Sherlock said as he grabbed his mobile and sent a few texts. He took John’s hand and looked at him. “Always?” 

“And forever,” John told him with kiss as he took his hand and headed on out.


	11. The Final Puzzle

It only took a few calls and texts for Sherlock to find out Molly’s location. John thought it was a little too easy and Sherlock agreed. It was obvious that Jim wanted a confrontation of some sort. After a long winded row about Sherlock staying in bed for his leg and leaving John was soon sitting next to the man in a car traveling to Molly’s location. Once they arrived they parked the car about a half mile away, Sherlock sucking up any pain he might have had as they walked. Once they reached the house Sherlock came up with a logical plan to get Molly out. The plain John absolutely hated for it involved Sherlock potentially getting shot at. 

“It’s the only way. He might not be expecting you as I usually act alone.” Sherlock argued. “My legs is fine.” He explained for he knew that was John’s major concern at the moment. 

John sighed and acquiesced to Sherlock’s decision, but not without hugging Sherlock close and kissing his cheek. “Please be careful.” 

Sherlock returned the kiss on the cheek. “You’ll get a real one when I see you safe again.”

John grinned. “It’s a deal.”

Sherlock moved swiftly to the front of the house while John ran around back. Even from his position near the back window he could still hear Sherlock shouting deductions.

“I’m sure you’re wife enjoys your long periods away from home. She’s enjoying her exploits with either the librarian or the teacher.” 

A few shots were fired and John held his breath until he heard Sherlock again. “Oh, now the one with the drug problem comes out. You do know that you can’t aim right?”

A few more shots rang out and John heard footsteps leading away from the house. John looked in and saw Molly lying on the couch doing a passable imitation of Sherlock’s thinking pose. He cautiously tapped on the window and Molly immediately jumped to attention. She ran to the window and signaled that it was locked. John looks around and finds a decent sized rock. Knowing that he would probably only get one shot and a few seconds to do this he quickly threw the rock at the windowpane, shattering it. Molly used the rock to clear a hole big enough for her to climb out of and John held her hands steady and she carefully climbed out. The guards from upstairs were just running down when Molly jumped to the ground.

John quickly fired off a few shots at the guards before taking Molly’s hand and running. “The car is a mile west of here parked at the side of the road. Run and jump in and lock the door behind you. Sherlock and I will be there shortly.”

Molly nodded and took off. John turned back to the front of the house to retrieve Sherlock. He could still faintly hear shots and Sherlock’s faint voice responding. Dashing through the woods, Jon kept an ear out for any sounds and nearly runs right into a guard’s burly form. They are both pointing their guns directly at Sherlock. 

Just as a guard moves to fire their weapon John quickly dashes forward to guard Sherlock. He expects the pain from the bullet to pierce him but was stunned to only hear a clicking sound behind him. Soon that clicking was echoed by the other guard’s gun. John felt Sherlock chuckle. 

“Funny thing about dim-witted angry men. They can’t remember to count bullets. Unlike my friend here.”

Taking his cue John dispatched the first guard with a quick shot to the abdomen. The second guard through his gun down and was now running at them in full charge… Only to be suddenly and violently pushed out of the way by a van driven by a slightly reckless molly. John didn’t realize how close to the road they were till she came barreling down. 

“Get in!” She shouted sat behind the wheel.

John made to get into the back seat but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Sherlock turned him around and kissed him roughly. John tangled his hands in dark curls and kissed back just as rough. 

Molly honked her horn at them as she stared at them. The broke the kiss grinning broadly before climbing in to the back seat. Molly turned back around to move the van back to the road. “Why doesn’t that ever happen to me?” she muttered to herself as the van began making its way to the city of Colchester again.

~~~

It had started to rain heavily on the drive back. Molly quickly put the windshield wipers on full blast and her headlights were as bright as they could be but it was still difficult to see. Suddenly she saw a shape in the distance on the road in front of her. She shrieked and slammed on the brakes. The car stopped dead in front of the person in the middle of the road. 

Molly almost took deep breath of relief till she saw whom it was.

Jim Moriarty was grinning, the rain and the lights twisting his normally goofy facial features into something sinister. 

The man took advantage of her shock to hop into the passenger’s seat and grin at the van’s occupants. “I hope you don’t mind me hitchhiking. But it’s so dangerous to be out on the open road in the rain. Now…where are we going exactly?”

Sherlock made to jump him but Moriarty quickly pulled out a semi-automatic and directed it at John. “Now…don’t think I would let you and your pet grab Molly that easily. Of course it was just a trap. And you helped me from paying out large sums of money to stupid goons. So thank you.” He grinned broadly. “Now Sherlock. Start talking. Molly, start driving.”

Molly hesitantly began driving slowing down the road again. 

Faced with no other viable options, Sherlock began talking fast. “Colchester. Specifically the area under the castle.”

Moriarty sighed. “I thought you scratched Colchester from the list of possibilities.”

“I did, till I realized there was a mistranslation in the location of Camelot. A lot of ancient historians thought it would be south of London. However, I discovered a map and documents that demonstrated its location would be more west of London.”

“Ahh…Henry Knight’s ancestor I’m guessing? I tried to pay a visit to your friend but found him out of town.”

John sighed with relief. At least Henry managed to avoid this psychopath.

Sherlock nodded once. “Nobody ever thought to look underneath the castle, but the castle must have been built on the ruins of Camelot. Colchester boast about being the oldest town and Briton and it’s probably close to it. It was a viable guess that I’m 90% sure is true.”

Moriarty grinned. “Good enough. Though I hate to think about what would happen to poor, pretty, Molly and brave John if that 10% ends up being true.”

“So you wouldn’t kill me as well?”

“Well no. Don’t be obvious. I wouldn’t kill you right away. I’d save it for something special.” 

Molly shuddered with understanding and drove a bit faster. It didn’t take long for them to arrive to the vacant parking lot to the castle museum. Sherlock led the way and Moriarty brought up the rear to make sure they all stayed in line. He made them wait while some other guards came as reinforcements. He motioned to them to stay and make sure that he came up with Sherlock eventually.

Sherlock quickly and effectively broke the lock and disabled the security system. They quickly made their way deep into the castle caverns. Sherlock stopped at the foundations for the temple of Claudius the Castle was built on. He stepped on a few of the stones before finally settling on one. He asked for a knife but wasn’t surprised when no one handed him one. 

Sherlock turned to Moriarty. “Your search is over unless you can procure a sharp instrument. I can’t claw though the tile with my bare hands.”

Moriarty grumbled, “You could try.” He used his phone to call one of the goons outside. “Adler…Get me a knife.” He shouted out their location and hung up.

Sherlock was only mildly surprised to hear that Irene showed up. “Why did you send her to give me such an obvious message on the train?”

Moriarty shrugged. “I thought we could get rid of the third partiers. Just have the game between you and me. And I thought the mystery of Adler would be enough to lure you off the train. But it appears that she overestimated her abilities.”

“No you underestimated my morals, few that I have. Molly and John are still more important than a woman who tries to “impress” me.”

Moriarty shrugged and they all turned when they heard the clicks of heels making their way down the corridors. He looked up to see Irene Adler handing Moriarty a long sharp knife. She took the gun from Moriarty’s hand and held it level and John’s heart while Moriarty dug at the stone’s mortar himself. 

“Why do you work for him?” Sherlock asked. 

“He offers a large pay check for unusual jobs. I’m an unusual girl.” She grinned at Sherlock. “You could come away with me you know. After this? You and Moriarty will be the finders of this magnificent treasure and become rich.”

“That’s assuming Moriarty lets us live after this find.”

Irene shrugged. “True. But would you come away with me anyway?”

“No.”

Irene pouted. “And I had such high hopes for you.” 

The brick came free shortly after and Irene and Moriarty traded weapons again. Irene gave a little wave to Sherlock. “See you around, Mr. Holmes.”

Sherlock only stared at her retreating figure before helping John remove the rest of the foundation stones. It soon became clear that they were leading to a stairway down into the center of the castle. The cavern was dark and Molly quickly procured a large torch for her pocket to light the way. Again Sherlock took the lead with John following closely behind. 

John grabbed Sherlock’s hand a squeezed. “Sherlock…who was she?”

Sherlock squeezed back. “Irene Adler. Quite possible the most intellectual women in the world.” He noticed the pressure of John’s hands. “Don’t be jealous John. She may be interesting but in the end her intellect is powered by greed, which makes her extremely dull in the long run. You on the other hand are extremely remarkable.” 

John had only managed to smile briefly before a warning shot was fired above their heads. 

“Enough lovey dovey talk. Find me the sword or the next shot won’t miss.”

~~~

They quickly made their way to solid ground again and found themselves in a series of caverns and caves that were stabilized by pillars of stone. They found that they were on a high plateau.

Molly shown her light down while John dropped a rock. It was a while before they heard the clatter of the rock hitting the ground. “About 20 meters” Sherlock estimated. Sherlock quickly pulled John back from the edge and pointed to a tunnel a short distance from the stairs. “Might be thru there.”

Molly shone her torch. She shifted around in the dark room. Suddenly the light glinted off of something bright. Sherlock motioned for her to shine the light in that direction again. She did and she heard John give a gasp that matched her own.

Somehow, time had not affected the iron sword. It was not rusted or damaged in anyway.

And it was now, somehow, stuck back into a rock. 

Sherlock and Moriarty both rushed into it. Sherlock knelt down and figured the runes on the blade. “Calibrun. This is it! Molly! We found it! John!” He turned around and gestured wildly at John. “This is it!” 

John started to smile but stopped when he saw Moriarty shove Sherlock, pointing his gun at Sherlock’s head. 

“Step Away.”

Sherlock only glared and stayed where he was for a second before walking away slowly. 

With one hand Moriarty tried to lift the sword but it stuck fast. Moriarty growled and tried for a bit longer before gesturing Sherlock over. “You try.” Sherlock pushed and tried to put pressure on the sword but it still would not budge. Moriarty growled “Sherlock. What’s going on?”

Sherlock shrugged. “I don’t know. The time in the stone could have caused a cement like seal around it. ”

Moriarty didn’t accept that answer and shoved Sherlock. “I could just smash the stone and retrieve it.”

Sherlock shoved back. “That could just damage the whole sword. We should just leave it.”

Moriarty was furious. “I’ve been waiting for this; I’m not waiting any longer.” He took aim and took a shot at the stone but Sherlock bodily moved his arm so the shot went harmlessly into the cavern wall. 

Moriarty growled and took aim again, this time at Sherlock’s head. 

John shouted and pushed Sherlock out of the way just as the gun went off. The shot barely grazed John’s right shoulder but it was enough to make him cry out. He reached his left hand out instinctively to catch hold of something and caught hold of the hilt of the sword. To his and everyone else’s surprise, instead of staying stationary as he expected, John felt to the ground and the sword moved. It easily slipped out of its stone sheath and fell with John to the ground. John didn’t stop to think of the implications of that and, placing the sword to the ground gently, he instead grabbed his shoulder. 

Sherlock saw red and pushed Moriarty to the ground, the gun skittering away from both of them. Moriarty pushed Sherlock off and made a dash for the stairs. Sherlock quickly followed, John shouting after both of them. He picked up the gun and quickly followed, Molly hot on his heels with the torch.

The shaking light from the torch showed the two men fighting and wrestling over the edge of the plateau. Due to the rain and the other factors John saw as both men slip. His heart stopped. “Sherlock!” John shouted. John dashed forward and grabbed Sherlock’s hand with the arm the bullet had grazed. He held Sherlock over the edge but he frowned when he felt that Sherlock was a lot heavier than he thought. A quick glance over the edge explained why. 

Moriarty had grabbed a hold of Sherlock’s leg and was using him to climb back up. He grinned up at John. “You could shoot me you know but I know about your little accident in Afghanistan. You shoot with your right hand, you would need to let go of Sherlock and hold him with your left arm. Your hand might slip.”

John huffed and Sherlock attempted to grip the side of the plateau with his hand only to be thwarted by Moriarty’s sudden grip on his arm. 

John turned to see Molly had pulled out her cell phone and had somehow managed to get signal. He saw her talking rapidly to someone, probably Mycroft.

John returned his attention to the problem in front of him and started to chuckle. “You know Jim, I shoot with my right hand because it doesn’t shake and I can get a better shot. But I don’t really need a good shot now do it?”

Moriarty only had a short chance to look confused before a shot rang out and his wrist was on fire. John had shot his wrist, not enough to kill him at all, but it caused enough pain for him to let go in shock. Moriarty’s grip faltered and he fell the 20 meters. They heard a thump, and didn’t hear anything else.

Sherlock grabbed on to the edge of the plateau with his other hand and together they pulled Sherlock back onto the plateau. Sherlock pushed and maneuvered John as far back from the edge as possible before pulling him into a hug and a kiss. 

John smiled into the kiss.

~~~

Sherlock insisted that John put the sword back in the stone. After John had done so Sherlock once again tried to lift it out of the stone but it was, once again, stuck. Molly tried as well and it wouldn’t budge. They looked at John expectantly and he just shrugged and touched the sword and lifted cautiously. 

Once again, the sword lifted easily out of the stone for John. John moved it cautiously stared at the strange markings adorning the blade. He saw Sherlock move toward him cautiously and he looked up. “I don’t understand Sherlock.”

Sherlock just stared at him and smiled, kissing the shorter man on the cheek. “A number of possibilities, but for now I think you should take it with you.”

They made their way cautiously up the stairs and out of the castle, only to see blinking lights and Moriarty’s goons already subdued by the local police force. John noticed that Irene Adler was not among the arrestees but didn’t comment on it. The police noticed when Sherlock, John and Molly emerged and made to arrest them as well but were stopped by a couple of voices John recognized.

Mycroft stared and Sherlock and sighed. “I do hope this is your last time breaking into museums Sherlock.” He glanced down to the sword in John’s hand. “The sword I take it?”

Sherlock nodded. “It was in another stone; only John could pull it out.”

Mycroft merely raised an eyebrow. “Curious.” 

Lestrade jogged over to them. “Ok guys, what exactly happened here—WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!” He pointed to the sword. 

“Excalibur. Obviously.” Molly said before looking at Lestrade. “Can we give our statements somewhere else? Like somewhere far, far away from here?”

Lestrade held up his hand. “Wait just one second though. Those men we arrested said that they were waiting for Jim Moriarty. They said he went down the stairs with you. Where is he?”

“Currently at the bottom of a very steep plateau. He kidnapped us and forced us to take him here. He got in a struggle and threatened to kill us. He then fell over the edge. Tragic.” Sherlock explained pointedly. “Now can we go?”

Mycroft nodded at Lestrade. “I think that’s reasonable.” He then motioned for a black car to pull around. “I’ll take them back to their hotel and they can give their statements in the morning.”

Lestrade sighed. “That’s against regulations. And the sword-“

“Will be taken into custody of antiquities and museum officials to be authenticated, but I believe that my brother and his companions did indeed find Excalibur. As for regulations, I think we can work something out.” He motioned for Sherlock to get in the car.

Sherlock did so with John following shortly after, while Mycroft and Lestrade discussed. Molly had already taken advantage of the open door and was huddling in the warmth of the car. John still had a firm hold on the sword and leaned into Sherlock’s side. 

Sherlock only smiled and wrapped an arm around John, kissing his head. John turned his head and kissed Sherlock’s cheek. He then closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a sad day to post the last chapter. ): But It was a fun fic to write with my co-author Greeneggs. We are grateful for all the lovely comments and feedback we did receive from the fic. We are glad that you enjoyed it as much as we enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> So we hope that you enjoy the last chapter of the lives of the consulting treasure hunter, his partner in crime and his faithful doctor. Comments are loved and appreciated!

John tenderly started to rip the plaster on his shoulder. Suddenly longer fingers gripped the sticky plaster and ripped it off. John shouted in pain for a minute before glaring at Sherlock who was folding up the plaster and binning it. “That hurt” John told him with a glare. 

“You’ve had doctor training; you should know it’s easier to just rip it all off at once.” Sherlock smirked as he then kissed the tiny scar. “There. All better.” He left to go grab his phone that had went off. 

John continued to glare at him. He looked at the scar left behind from the bullet graze. A doctor had stitched it up a few weeks ago. John smiled at the memory of waking up with Sherlock freaking out over his wounded shoulder. They bypassed their hotel and instead took him to the nearest hospital where all three companions were treated for any contusions or scrapes. Molly took advantage of the hospital beds to get more sleep as they waited for a doctor for John’s wound. Sherlock was treated more for his leg and the doctors nearly insisted that he should stay for longer but Mycroft persuaded them that decision would be detrimental for everyone’s health.

Now, everyone was healed completely except for Sherlock’s leg. Doctors were still hesitant of giving him a clean bill of health and insisted, much to Sherlock’s dismay, that he rest it for a bit longer. Currently they were staying at the Holmes residence in London. John and Molly didn’t mind but Sherlock was restless and hurried to find another place to stay. Sherlock returned and sat on the bed next to John as he scrolled through his phone. John looked over and saw that Sherlock was once again looking at the classifieds for flats. “You know, we could always go back to mine.” John offered to Sherlock. He figured he would take it just to get out of his parent’s home. 

“Mycroft already boxed up your things and broke your lease to your tiny flat.”

“What?!” John asked a bit confused.

Sherlock just turned and stared intently at him. “You hated it there and they were overcharging you. They also had a mold infestation that Mycroft neglected to tell them about but didn’t hesitate to tell future renters.” Sherlock returned to his phone. “Besides, your flat and bed are much too small for two people.”

John blushed and went quiet. Sherlock wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close. John opened his mouth. “Isn’t moving in together and sleeping in the same bed moving a bit fast?”

“You already killed two men for me. If we go by today’s society standards, I’d say we skipped some steps already.”

John cracked a smile and leaned in closer to Sherlock’s body heat. 

Sherlock gripped John’s hip tighter. “We skipped a few steps…including…”

John sighed and laid a hand on Sherlock’s. “Not yet. Not until your leg heals up fully.”

Sherlock pouted and fell back on the bed, his grip on John meaning that he fell with him. John curled up on Sherlock’s side as the taller man continued to scroll thru his phone. “What about this one?”

John looked at the advertisement for a modest flat in central London. “221B? Looks pleasant…”

"Good. I've already got our stuff packed and on its way there.”

"Sherlock! You can’t just...we got to sign paperwork and…meet our landlady.”

"Already taken care of. Our landlady is a woman by the name of Mrs. Hudson who is currently trying to make ends meet while her American husband is in jail in Florida.” Sherlock turned his phone off and turned to kiss John’s head.

John sighed. “How are going to afford it.”

“We paid off the rent for a year with the money Mycroft and the rest of the government insisted we take as a reward for finding the sword. We still have a bit left over. Molly is using her share to return to medical school.” Sherlock stated.

“Oh she’s becoming a doctor?”

"Coroner.”

John smiled in to Sherlock's shoulder. "You two are a lot more alike than you think”

Sherlock merely grunted in response. “Well then…will you, John Watson, move in with me?”

John nodded. "When do we move in?”

"Tomorrow.”

~~~

Molly looked up from her book and saw a few people staring at her. Huffing she rolled her eyes and dropped her head back down to study. She had a test tomorrow and she needed to focus. But the eyes on her were getting a bit tiresome and annoying. She raised he eyes slightly to see the group of three people still looking at her.

“If you are wondering. Yes, I am the Molly Hooper. Yes, I was with Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Yes we found the Excalibur. Now please, stop looking at me like I’m a puppy for sale in a shop window. I need to study for this test.”

Molly went back to her studying. But she felt the eyes. Tossing her books into her rucksack she left. She knew a place, it wasn’t the quietest but by god it was better than the library. Pulling out her mobile and texted Sherlock. She knew he would be home. John was out looking for jobs now that, well everything was done and over.

Are you bored enough to let me come over- Molly

Yes. People looking at you again in the library-SH

Obviously. I will be there in 15 – Molly

Bring dinner. And what is the answer on the eyes for my experiment- SH

Once Molly got to 221B she set the food on the table for her, John and Sherlock. Slipping her rucksack off her set it on the floor. She looked around the living room while toeing around her shoes. “You can sit down, Molly,” John said as she eyed the furniture carefully.

“Nah… I don’t want to hear about where you guys had sex in the living room whenever I choose a spot to sit.”

“Sherlock?!” John turned to his boyfriend, his face scarlet.

“She inquired how the new furniture was holding up. I gave her evidence.” 

“Not what she was asking for, Sherlock.” He turned to Molly. “The kitchen is still safe. As are the desk chairs.”

“For now.” Sherlock muttered as he plopped down on the couch. John handed him a plate of food and plate to Molly who decided it was best to sit in the desk chair. John sat down next to Sherlock on the couch as they ate their dinner of Chinese takeaway.

“How is school going, Molly?” John asked her.

“Good, glad to be almost done in a way.” She explained to them. “How is that one holding up without a treasure?” Molly asked as she ate a dumpling.

“Oh, you know, sometimes I’ll hide something of his and he’ll hunt around till he finds it.” John joked around with her. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John and huffed. “I’m kidding,” John said looking up at Sherlock and kissing him on the lips.

“My boredom is not something to laugh at John.” Sherlock explained as he stole one of John’s dumplings.

“No, no it really isn’t.” he said as he turned back to Molly. “I think that I’ll have to hide my gun soon cause sometimes I’ll come in and he’ll be staring at the wall like he wants to shoot it. He already spray painted it as you can see.” 

Molly turned around and smiled back at the yellow smiley face adorning the wall.

She turned back around. “Are you guys happy.” Molly asked. “With everything. The settlement you got and all that?”

“Yes.” John said.

“I ended up with John. That was the best part of the deal.” Sherlock explained with a half-smile. “You seem content with what you have.”

“Oh I am.” Molly smiled. “I just wanted to hear you say that to know that my job was accomplished and that you two are happy.”

“What about you Molly?”

“Me,” she said setting her plate down on the desk. “I’m going back to school to get a real job, I have two good mates and I’m sure next time there is a treasure to be found I will be getting a text saying ‘be ready in 5. We are going to Alaska’ or something like that.” John laughed as he set his plate down as well. “You think I’m kidding Doctor Watson. Just wait, you will get a phone call when you are at work telling you to come home for it’s an emergency and he will have your rucksack packed and two aeroplane tickets.”

“I could just say no.” John explained.

“No you can’t.” Molly said with a smile.

~~~

Sherlock sighed on the couch and contemplated if shooting the wall with John’s gun would alleviate his boredom. 

A couple of months had passed since Colchester and their discovery of Excalibur. He, Molly and John had been invited to gallery openings and state dinners and at first it had been exciting and new. 

Now it was all just undeniably boring. 

Currently, John was looking for another part time job to fill his time and would be getting the shopping on his return. Molly was still in school studying to be a coroner and came over to study with Sherlock when she had time, knowing that the new knowledge would alleviate some of Sherlock’s boredom. But then she would return to her own flat and 

But now they were both gone and he was so bored. 

Suddenly his phone beeped, signaling an incoming text. Sherlock jumped to read it and visibly slumped when he read it.

Won’t be home till later. Tube is delayed. Can you get take out? John

Sherlock sighed and eyed the kitchen. Surely cooking couldn’t be too hard? At least it would temporarily relieve his boredom. 

He regretted this decision later as he and sweet Mrs. Hudson rushed around the flat opening all the windows to allow the smoke and smell to leave the flat. Trying to hide it before John arrived home. Once the smog of smoke began to disappear from the flat.

“You’ll find something to perk you right up Sherlock. Maybe another treasure hunt? Perhaps a hot drink?” She suggested as made her way back down the stairs. 

“Tea thanks.” Sherlock grumbled.

“Just this once dearie. I’m your landlady, not your housekeeper.”

Sherlock just glared at the stove and the towel, which had temporarily caught fire and nodded absently. He heard the front door open and John’s voice greeting Mrs. Hudson on the stairs.

“Sherlock? What happened?” John asked as he arrived to a hazy scene with the windows open. He could still smell smoke. He was just hoping that nothing was damaged that Sherlock couldn’t re purchase if need be.

“Bored.”

“So you tried to cook.” John started to laugh till he saw Sherlock’s dejected look. “Oh Sherlock. It’s ok. We’ll find something to occupy that wonderful mind with.” He stood on tippy toes to kiss Sherlock’s frown. “For now though I brought take away anyway when you didn’t answer your text. It’s from that Italian place on Northumberland. Angelo’s, I think.”

Sherlock nodded and got out plates. Still feeling defeated that he couldn’t master cooking. Or master not catching things on fire. The Italian was delicious and they both gobbled it up. Suddenly they heard the front door open and Mrs. Hudson’s voice called up. “Boys! You got company!”

They heard heavy footfalls on the stairs and Lestrade came in the door. They looked up at him confused.

Lestrade seemed unsure as well. “Sherlock, your brother called while we were investigating a break in. He said you might be able to help.”

Sherlock waited for Lestrade to continue while John started to put the food away.

“There was a break in last night at the Victoria and Albert Museum—“

“It wasn’t me this time.” Sherlock interjected.

“Yes we know.” Lestrade grumbled. “Anyway, instead of taking the more valuable objects, they took a few smaller things. The officers at the yard can’t make a connection between the objects and the thieves. Your brother seems to think you can make a connection easier?” Lestrade looked slightly desperate. 

“Just to make things clear…you’re asking Sherlock to help with an official investigation?” John asked.

“We could bring him on as a consultant.” Lestrade offered. “Not sure if we could pay you Sherlock, but if you can help…”

“I’ll need to see the crime scene; your investigators may have missed something. Also pictures of the objects taken and any suspects you have.” Sherlock started to list off. “And of course I’ll need my assistant John.”

Lestrade just rolled his eyes. “Whatever you need. You want a lift?”

“No. We’ll be along in a cab.” 

Lestrade left and Sherlock turned to John. “That is ok right?”

John nodded. He then kissed Sherlock and took his hand. “Maybe this will help alleviate the boredom. Another treasure hunt? Can’t wait!”

“I thought you’d be sick of treasure hunting,” Sherlock said smiling. He turned and looked at John. “Do you want to see some more?”

“Oh, God yes!”


End file.
